THE ELEVENTH

 There is a just one number that has come to signify more for me than any other,

Touching emotions difficult to describe such as the love for one’s partner or a mother.

Side by side the double singular digits mark that hour, that date and month to end a war of madness.

It is then a digital expression, for some a celebration, commemoration, for others a deep sense of sadness.

To mourn, to remember those taken, the relief that it was over, different feelings, it’s easy to be torn.

It is this same month when I arrived, when the queen was wed and a year later her son was born. 

For some their magic number will be a six or a twelve, for others it’s ten or just seven,

As a child on this month’s twenty-eighth day with cards and presents, I was in seventh heaven. 

But at school that exam’s name with a plus signified failure and division.

Even now not to pass it can result in a life sentence of rejection and derision.   

The month, with this number, marks the end of our autumn or across the Atlantic what they call the fall. 

There were fireworks on its fifth day in 1605, and on its ninth in 1989, down came that wall.

Its added two digits are the number of minutes for that moment of silence when all stand still.

Those brave men made the ultimate sacrifice, they did this for us, we live now from their will. 

When I see that number, the two “ones” side by side, there is then much to remember.

Let no one forget that eleventh hour and day of that same numbered month the one we call November.