All is still and quiet.
The moon dances a cold, icy arc
Across the winter skies,
And my heart fights off the frost, for now.
This is the time for deadening.
Unforgiving season of cold, sharp clarity,
Leads to painful realisations.
I look back,
Trying to make sense of the dying year,
Trying to find lessons though the pain,
Trying to find feeling,
But November wants me numb.