The sun about to set—a golden ember
Against the firmament,
Warm day—gone—bringing cold night in wake.
I see my breath about my face,
And that is all I need to remind me:
This is not a dream—but a reality,
And that you are actually with me.
The night moon later will yield to the sun light:
I’m hung up you’ll part soon.
The dark frosted air brought by the ensuing night
Kisses your nose and you want to go,
But this is the last night of November—
Eleven months into the year—
Good-bye—I’ll miss you—wait let me kiss you—
Good-bye—golden ember of the sun—
Here comes dark December—
One month since you’ve been gone.