Those Sidewalks in November:
Always abustling with the pitter patter of proper pep.
Arms swaying and tongues confessing to the music of their hearts.
Warmth in numbers with hands that glow together in the cinnamon swirls of Twilight.
Short are the days against the endless nights of November.
Empty barren roadways in December
dutifully point toward the sinking solar sun
atop a sullen gulf.