© 2019 by Alex Mendenall

November Again [A Story About Being Different]

March 5, 2015

It’s been a while, but last night I wrote a short story and thought I would share it with everyone! I hope you enjoy it.

 

 

November Again

 

November again, Said the cloud to the wind.

Your moment in season has come.

The leaves only shake, They won't stop or break.

So help me to cover the sun.

 

The rain chimed in next, Put us to the test.

We're bound to put on a good show.

Cause it won't be long, No rhyming or song,

Will stop us from turning to snow.

 

The cloud and the rain, With wind's cold refrain.

All rode on towards a small town.

They knew they would soon, Bring sadness and gloom.

On everyone's faces a frown.

 

It dealt them a blow, Seeing those down below.

So sad taking hats off their shelves.

For they didn't seek, to make everything bleak.

They were only just being themselves.

 

But they didn't see, They wouldn't believe.

That down in that town was a boy.

Who lived for the grey, the cold and the haze.

To him they were bringers of joy.

 

In him grew delight, As they came in sight.

He put on his coat, went outside.

Just as the first drops, Of rain fell in plops.

He started to pick up his stride.

 

He ran through the woods, No need for his hood.

He let the wind blow through his hair.

And with every breeze, And each passing tree.

He found fewer reasons to care.

 

The cloud, it got darker, The wind, it blew harder.

And he felt a little bit colder.

Rising up in his eyes, The tall hill was his prize.

So he grew a little bit bolder.

 

He sprinted his best, With no time to rest.

To reach the tip top of the hill.

And right at the top, He yelled a loud "Stop!"

So the cloud, rain, and wind all stood still.

 

"I just want to say, That though you dismay.

Many who live in my town.

I'm your biggest fan, And I think you're grand.

It’s so nice to have you around."

                                  

They were taken aback, "Did this boy really track.

The three of us up here to say?

He loves what we do, He never feels blue.

Though we chase the summer away?"

 

"We're disliked by most, from East to West coast.

Just because we are who we are.

But here is this boy, whom we don't annoy.

So this feels a little bizarre."

 

While they pondered above, the boy in his gloves.

He fought back a tear in his eye.

He'd wanted to tell, he'd wanted to yell.

To them every time they came by.

 

Cause some, where he lived,  they would only give.

The boy just a look of mistrust.

And some even worse, he'd try to converse.

And in return, one of disgust.

 

The boy cleared his throat, Adjusted his coat.

And said just as loud as he could.

"Wind, Rain, and Cloud, You shouldn't feel cowed.

For you are just misunderstood."

 

"See, I'm different too, And more than a few.

Are scared of the things they don't know.

But when you're around, I never feel down.

And I know that I'm not alone."

 

So from that day on, The four had a bond.

That couldn't be broken by time.

And once every year, November appeared.

So that boy would go make his climb.

 

And Each grew to love, below or above.

The person or weather they were.

And never again, did any of them.

Feel sad, or alone, or unsure.

 

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