My November comes conceiving sorrows
Despite layers over layers, the **** shows
Pregnant sorrows are like still borne children
And still borne children, the fiction of the unaware
Always stuck in that muddle of grief,
Not begun; yet not leaving

Out here, November Nights gain an hour
And, my sleeplessness too
Y'day night I woke up in three tunnels of time
As if, passing through some corridors and trapped
Somewhere; for a long time

I feel an envious abandon to
All those trees that felled their leaves
Through the trees and felled leaves
November gives me a cold lonely road
To tread, more backwards than ahead...

Mired lines mar the November vision
Can insinuations offer 'clarity on Intentions?'  
Fall fells a lot, below the bare branches
Awaits a lot of leaves, crushed hopes and dreams
I lay bare, awaiting this November to turn over

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