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This photo is a poem of shadows.
Comments Made During the Challenge
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November does that
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Dragged from dirt
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The cold mornings
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November comes in darkly
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I can remember the time when his wife was alive. She used to be so vibrant and cheerful, her smile was the most catching of the whole town. Without her he seems to be fading away. Getting grey and inanimate. There are more bad than good days. He needs a rollator. Age can be like a limping friend who wants to steal that wheeled walker from you. Every month is like November
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November, a poem.
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The sky is gray, the leaves are dead,
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