if I remember my November
there was beauty in its moments
days wrapped in a borrowed sweater
in wandering thoughts of lost innocence
nights wrapped in a stolen blanket
inside drifting dreams to reminiscence
a bourbon held high in the air
for the happiest of birthdays spent
another held tightly in tears
for the saddest of losses went
and thankful for all in the end
a long slow goodbye to the month I call my own