It is raining in November, cotton ball fog hovers over the chilled Saint John city streets.
The decorations look out of place in the rain.
Like Christmas decorations still up in March.
Christmas makes me think of you. Were you ever able to leave? | was able.
Or are you still glaring at each other from across the room, wondering...
- and watching it rain through a window in November.
Tara Schley
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem