The Thirteenth Month Poem by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black

The thirteenth month goes unnamed
And stealthily steals away-and comes- and goes
grows and grows.
There are no earthly friends -just a voice
and a barren heath-where the brave go.
And the old live young.

Age is ageless and Time is timeless
dreams ''become real''
Mists obscure the vision
-and Its death is blameless.

Then I wandered that lone dark road
sitting by my hearth.


Published in the Spring 1970 issue of the Beachplums