A Day in November

Standing on the corner of our dream

we’re tiptoeing around each other’s minds.

The wind gets colder,

night sky taller,

thoughts a’racing – different kinds.

The dead of night chases away

even the faintest grain of wit.

But then again, I’m asking you:

Which is it wiser

to lose, to love, to fight, to quit?

I’ve chosen folly, you haven’t yet.

So, I’ll be calm and patient

but I expect

that one day you’ll be kissing different lashes

and mine will close to sink regret.

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