Three short lines, no title worth the name (just a row of asterisks), and a plea: "please I beg of you / please remember / that lonely November." The poem is signed only "amone", and nothing else about the writer or the occasion is given, so the poem has to speak for itself. In some ways that suits it, because it is built entirely out of what it leaves unsaid.
Start with the strangeness of the request. People usually beg to be spared a painful memory, or to be forgiven and forgotten. Here the speaker begs for the opposite: remember, and remember the loneliness. The poem never says why. Judging by the wording, the speaker seems to treat that month as something the two people share, or at least something that matters enough to be rescued from forgetting. Maybe the loneliness was the bond. Maybe the speaker fears that if it is forgotten, so is everything that happened inside it. The poem supports several of these readings and settles on none, which is why it lingers.
The word "that" does a lot of quiet work in the last line. It doesn't say "a lonely November" or "the lonely November". It points, as if to something both people can see. The speaker assumes the listener already knows exactly which November is meant, so the poem feels like the tail end of a conversation we've walked in on. We get the plea without the history.
The adjective "lonely" is also worth a second look. A month can't literally be lonely; the loneliness belongs to the people who lived through it. Attaching it to the month turns time itself into a place, a room the speaker keeps asking someone to step back into. And November, at least in the northern hemisphere, is a month of shortening days, so the word carries a seasonal chill. But the poem never mentions weather, leaves, or cold, so that atmosphere is something a reader brings to it, not something the text states.
The construction is spare but careful. Capital letters are rationed. The only ones in the poem are the pronoun "I" and the name of the month. That leaves two things standing out on the page, the person who is begging and the time they are begging about. Everything else is lowercase and unpunctuated, so the lines run on like a murmur, and without a full stop the plea is never closed off. It just stops, and the request stays open.
The rhythm shows the same instinct. The lines run roughly five, four, and six syllables. The middle line, "please remember", is the shortest, as if the speaker catches their breath on the one word that matters. The final line is the longest and settles into a rhyme: "remember" with "November." It is a feminine rhyme, ending on an unstressed syllable, so the poem trails off instead of landing hard. It sounds like a voice dropping, not a door slamming.
That rhyme matters beyond its sound. "Remember" and "November" share their last four letters, so the thing being asked for and the thing to be remembered are almost the same word. You could say the month is built into the act of remembering. There's a small echo inside the line too: "lonely" and "November" both lean on that rounded "o" (lone, No-), which gives the line a hollow, drawn-out feel. Meanwhile "you" at the end of line one rhymes with nothing, and it is the only line left hanging. The one word that points at another person is the one without a partner, which fits a poem about loneliness.
Then there is the repetition of "please". It appears twice, and the first time it is stacked with "I beg of you", a phrase that is almost embarrassingly direct. The second "please" arrives alone, stripped of ceremony, as though the speaker has run out of ways to dress up the request. The poem moves from formal pleading to bare need in just three lines.
What makes it worth reading is how little it uses. It has no explanation, no scenery and no resolution, only a person asking for the one thing that can't be forced: to be remembered. Because the poem refuses to say what happened in that November, readers can fill the gap with their own, and that may be why such a small poem can feel so personal.