November (II)

Since Sunny passed away seven years ago, I've lost a number of friends; including two in the past several months.   

I wrote this poem "November" years ago; I believe after the murder of Adam, one of my coworkers.  Now I've known more than just a few who have died.

I know

only a few

who have died

for whom I've cried

left pieces of my heart

on their wooden chests

and turned away

never to return

"Let the dead bury their own"

I've got to earn my bread

and bury the sorrow

Some grey November morning

shielded from the cold

I'll have conquered the world

and you'll turn away

hearts aching and old

and then you'll drift away

never to return