Reclaiming My November

Amidst the dancing biraho grasses, 

she gathered the strength to claim

that she was in fact wrong,

that her November definitely extends up to now.

The only thing that changed is that her 

November extends no longer for him.

Waiting, stopped

being a dreadful thought, yet again.

It was fitting, she added,

that these grasses flourish in the cruel winter,

for she too, celebrates the winter chill even though she wasn’t built for it,

not because these grasses love the cold,

not because she loves the cold,

but, because it was cold, 

these grasses are a sight to behold in the glistening winter sun,

but, because it was cold,

she can fully embrace the warmth.

---Petchaboon, 19 December ‘13

#For that day, I celebrated the reasons for writing <you>, and the many reasons for stopping to. ;)