by Thomas Wesley Case
November smells like an
empty house,
like decaying dreams;
all pumpkin orange and
burnt sienna.
I search for you through
the ashes of roses.
My eyes are the color
of despair.
I can still taste you;
that last kiss, clover sweet.
And without you, the days
dawn gray
and lonely, like an orphan.
From:
Thomas W. Case
Copyright ©:
2023
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Thomas Wesley Case is an American poet and author. He was born in California and now writes and lives in Iowa. He has hundreds of poems published in anthologies around the world. He also has two volumes of poetry published and a third volume entitled, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, due out soon.
Last updated January 27, 2024