November
I think November is my favorite color
November is the touch of an old friend
And the whispers that smell of hot cocoa breath in pillow forts.
She brings comfort and memories
Of ancient days
Where the air smells of crisp newspapers
And empty spaces in museums.
My tote bag that hangs on the knob of my door
Has a 3 x 3 pattern of washed out hearts
It smells of street pretzels and good memories
Though, I’d rather forget most of them.
The trees that line the courtyard so perfectly
Reek of cigarette smoke
And whatever the smell of humidity is described as.
But they also have an ambrosial smell
Of warm rain and flowering tobacco.
They look so lovely
The colors that define radiance
And I bet they taste of caramel apples and cranberry sauce.
November, my favorite color, hangs off of me
Like a sundress in August
Rusty orange skirts and brown platforms and red overcoats.
Most people prefer October
The encore of summer and the true beginnings of new people
And new places and new senses
But November, my favorite color, simply has a tighter hold of me
Than any of the other 11 colors.
Each of them are idyllic in their own way
But November is just
Almost lyrical.
A melody I know all too well
A rhythm I can sway to comfortably.
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Paetyn Rector, sophomore, is a first year staff reporter for wlhsNOW. Outside of writing for wlhsNOW, Paetyn is passionate about tennis, volleyball, creative...





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