Snow on the ground
tears in your eyes
Late Thanksgivings trimmings
being made with a
bit of melancholy
Bittersweet
but bittersweet
is sometimes best.
The sweet is all
the more
        well,
sweet.

Head my words
Read my lips.
The snow is falling
for someone.
I didn't know him
well, and I
could tell
he didn't know me
either.
Alas,
no more;
a quiet death.