It's despair and departure time.
The abandoned stares into the November air.
November air is always heavy. With crises and rain.
With swan-love-songs and dirges.
And inarticulate pain.
There's a nip in the air
The abandoned shiver in the shade of the clouds
November is busy. With politics and games.
Sporting and sportive
They're terrible with names.
And now for the conclusion.
You had a way with words.
November was terrible. To say goodbye.
Finalities and such-like.
Well, it's nice actually. I,too, love to lie.