In the Darkest of months
We're heaped up with hours
Too cold to be in any way
productive
Too dark to be in any way
Instructive
These are the hours
I desire to see you at
A soft summer beam  
That will light my way
And make me stay sane
During the month of locked doors
and smoking chimney tops
it's only too easy to let the weeks
Bury you a mile deep beneath the earth
  
So guide me through November
And I promise  
I'll guide you through anything
Be it a doubt, Pause, fall, tear or just a spilled cup of tea