November

Rising,
a storm gathers.

There builds the dark fury,
clouds forming together
and creeping
so quiet
in dreams.

And in her love's eyes,
he is seen.
Their child,
their miracle,
their chance for a future
at ease.

Once a hope, dreamt upon,
now in actual flesh,
royal bone.
The soul has been chosen
from the stars,
from their hearts...
and placed as a small,
squalling prince.

The break of the storm begins.

Tears from her eyes
drift on down.

Her son will be all
that remains.

So small, saggitarius,
yet come morning
you'll have risen
as king.

__________________
could make me love you less...