Awaiting first whispers of winter,
wanting to know the winner
who won with a splinter,
a thorn in the side.
Hardly noticed the leaves fall
or you leave.
You left, right?
Flaked on plans made,
snowflakes made
higher than when the trees shed
but on the same path.
Routes like a spiral,
Roots like a spiral.
Viral downward motions,
contagious and cold.
Dorothy told Alice
they weren't in Wonderland anymore
because that ruby tapping
woke them up.
Haunting grins lingering.
"What, Toto?"
We did.
It's all done.
Around again doth winter come.
Never spoke we of the sun.