A Cold Day in November


Retro relics shimmer in the sun

of the open flea market 

behind a chain link fence.

forgotten treasures of another time

now merchandise of value to  recycle.


Warmly, I think of soft spoken you

in cold barren autumn hours;

you kissed me with much promise

and held me close back then

but couldn't face time's demand


I'm called back years

between abandoned antiquities

and rows of carnival  glass.

another lost treasure

and I feel November all over again