November, half-sister to winter's cold heartache
brings thoughts that are sharp and as thin as the trees.
Sits still as a child who yearns to be noticed,
entreats me to rest 'fore the upcoming freeze.
I'll sit here aware in mysterious quiet,
pondering new years or old seasons' charms
And yearn to be loved when December's indifference
brings me inside to be warmed in your arms.
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