It’s November
And everything I feel within
Is what I see around,
The coalescing fog,
The turbidity of clouds,
Coldness enveloping itself again,
Before the trees; wilting leaves bow,
As I stand there, I feel understood,
It’s November,
Hence I am not alone
in the woods

you were a rare specimen,

i wanted to catch you with my words,

paralyze you with my gaze,

dissect you with my tongue,

and stuff you with my love,

i wanted to keep you as a trophy,

but you were wild, and i was eccentric.

Winter sunrise on my last and longest day,

wrap me in a winding sheet of flaming orange

take the reds and pinks from midnight blue to make my shroud

let me rest in heaven fire

drown my tired soul in colour

drinking the final carnival

warmth for my bones,

a funeral of skies and wonders

Fold me like you always have,
Run your nails to set the creases,
Shape me to the form you crave,
Bend me into the art of your wishes,

My form forever yours to toy with,
I conform to your will and desire,
Expose my surfaces, above or beneath,
I will always be there for you to admire,

I can be flexible or I can be stiff,
That depends on what you want,
I am here to help fill your rift,
The one who says you can when you can’t,

Craft that which you seek of me,
I am but your art, your origami.