November winds call to me.
I long to fly in the cold,
bone chilling air.
To make friends with the leaves
that dance around me.
To breathe in the fall
and exhale the winter.
These autumn nights
are attached to me,
and I to them.
This cold and me
we are a lot a like.
We both blow free in the wind
until winters dead end
stops us cold.
We live inside boundaries
and time slots;
yet we keep on pretending
that we are our own.
Though in reality
we are only just a season.
Lost souls riding on the breeze
searching for purpose and reason.