November is My Favourite Month
The temperature dips around November, as the sky takes on a monochromatic hue.
Often, the sunshine at the end of a raging tempest is touted, or the illusion that are rainbows is promised; foils to the supposed sorrow of the sky.
But what is rain if simply not another love story that’s lost?
Each drop of water, a love letter transacted between the star-crossed lovers that are the sky and the earth.
A downpour, gentle or fervent, an amorous tango between the two.
A forbidden dance for which the world respectfully retreats. Or is forcefully banished.
Life duly blooms not long after this intimate romance.
Tucked away from this torrid affair, I whip delicate cream to sweeten the bitterness of my morning coffee in the secrecy of my home.
The chill envelops me in a near maternal embrace as an unmistakable whiff of petrichor follows.
I open to a fresh page in my notebook, as I feel the might of oceans, the vigour of rain, the strength of thunder and the power of lightning all at once.
A storm that rivals nature’s ignites in my soul.
I toy with ideas, both zephyr-like drifts and ardent declarations.
I ruminate on the in-between that is the month of November; the in-between of seasons and holidays, of the year that's passed and the year that awaits.
A pause that reminds you of everything you have, not what you don't or yet have.
Just like that, my melancholia is swept away by a current of my palpable dreams.
And so, with fiery eyes amidst rainy skies and early nights, I cherish yet another trip I've made around the sun.
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