And on this
First of November
We remember those
We have lost
Like the leaves
Of fall give
Way to winter’s
Snow we must
Remember that we
All are but
Reminders for those
To come blanketing
A cold world
Upon which for
Them they can
Walk on softly
Until like spring
Gives way to
Summer they blossom
I am not
Motivated by lust
But rather by
Learning learning to
Be yourself if
I can take
You from here
To there then
My job is
Complete what you
Do on the
Other side is
Completely up to
You
Laying here in
The dark a
Candle winking at
Me from the
Dresser listening to
Debussy delicately bob
Above me like
Late summers fireflies
I remember now
The feeling of
Your finger tips
Dancing on my
Arm like slowly
Creeping Ivy pulling
Me in tightly
Like mother’s embrace
And warding off
The chill of
That one nighttime
So long ago
Our sweet September
Together in Valencia
The root of
Ignorant is ignore
Finished with rant
Likely expressed by
Ranting about what
One ignores unlike
Understand whose root
Is stand preceded
By under likely
Expressed by standing
For that which
Is seen as
Less than you
One is noble
The other cowardice
There’s this place
When naked you
Stand downtrodden and
Weary cold shivering
Like that last
Leaf clinging to
The last branch
On the last
Day of October
When someone like
A tugging wind
Pulls you up
And says sweetheart
This thing that
You think that
You are isn’t
You
You are the
Thing that you
Are to me
And to me
You’re not the
Last of something
But the beginning
Of something else
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 