October in the Chair

[November] was pale and thin lipped. He helped October out of the wooden chair. “I like your stories. Mine are always too dark.”

“I don’t think so,” said October. “It’s just that your nights are longer and you aren’t as warm.”

From“October in the Chair,” in Fragile Things, by Neil Gaiman

I adore April and a love June, but October is my favorite month. I love its colors, its scents, the taste of its treats, the mystery that fall with its autumnal leaves… I’ve imagined October as a woman who delights in skirts and knee-high boots, as a man wearing a hat that accentuates the mischief sparkling his eyes, as a story under a cloak made of reds and oranges and yellows that speak of Nature readying for winter’s cold.

For this Weekend Mini-Challenge, I invite you to turn October into a poem. Is your October a girl? Does he smile like a boy? Is October a feeling that kisses the back of your neck… and reminds you of your dead? What does October look like to you? Show me in poetry.  

Please craft a new poem (preferably short *cough, cough, cough*), and feed Mr. Linky (below) with the direct link to your piece. Then visit other Toads… and see the faces of their Octobers.  

…my October often includes Graveyards and Sunshine…