An Autumn Most Miserable

Trees bare and stark
leaves on the ground
but no snow around.

The snowy white covers up the look of death
giving a frosty beauty to the look of November.

But no snow white this year
only stark trees and decaying leaves.

There are no gray skies yet.
The sun still shines
but the air is cold
and the wind chills the bone.

The feel of winter is everywhere
but not the snow.

This false season that's come to this place
in this year of 2010
the days brim with bright sunshine
but the cold chills
and chills
in the frosty air
that shows no appearance of frost.

Metaphorical of this entire year for me
confronted with the cold reality of death
and from family and people I thought were friends
an icy chill
the cold breath of hatred directed towards me.

The one from whom I felt such warm love is gone
and in what they call IRL
away from the computer and cyberspace
the streets of the city where I live
are littered with clones of Narnia's White Witch and Frost Queen
disguised as summer nymphs devoid of warmth.

An Autumn Most Miserable
A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Thursday, November 11th 2010.