The November Sun.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: Turn, Turn, Turn

Leaves start to dye, the color of my time.
Disguising the sight of green pigments, tainting what was left of our season.

We saw the rise and Fall in the winds of November.
A victimless murder mystery,
A lovely mistake born in the feast of a turkey.
A mother’s love forever out of his reach.

Dear, abandoned child.
Love is a self-made suicide
go looking for it and you will die.
So lets go play hide n’ seek.
I’ll be the affection you need, hiding in a stack of fallen promises.

Hush little baby, don’t cry
save your tears for another life.


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