I left it in October

I left it in October.

For safe-keeping, I guess.

October, my old friend,

I will always trust you.

You showed me death.

You showed me love.

You made me a man,

And I welcome you each year.

I left in October

Now, once a year, I find it

Again, and hold it to my chest.

In my lungs, I hold it

Then release it to the wind,

And to November,

When the next chapter is inked

Onto the rough, white page

And, finally, the fog is lifted

To show a new world,

The next step.

October, what treasure

Is there this time around?

An end?

A beginning?

A heaven?

A hell?

I rock back and forth on my toes in March and wait for October.