Remember,
Days folded beneath caverns caved in blanketed ice,
She's a griffon, or a way, to be something else,

Already not confounded,
I breathe my last,
Breathe of solitude entering a form of reason and thought so,
perfect,

Already I know the ground,
does not delay,
clay vantage points,
and constant fears of disaster,

Truce? Draw?
Whatever collapse that keeps us calm,
Collected,
Like warn out drawers,
He cries,
"Shallow not ye bothered quiver!"

Also,
Don't see the days that didn't make sense,
That doesn't make sense,
Welcome November