It is a cold November
The trees shed their leaves
They fall dead and brown
Only to decay
And become dust.
The November rain falls
Not a heavy torrential rain
Which floods
And with a whipping wind
Bends branches
It is a soft rain
With a soothing sound
And collects in small puddles
And falls like tears.
The sky is draped
In a blanket of grey
The sun does not show her face
Smoke rises from a pyre
For two
The fire burns
Unaffected by the rain
And beside it stands a man
Dressed in a trench coat
Face washed in both rain
And tears
The grey rain remains
Until evening comes
The clouds obscure the sunset
And darkness descends.
And in the darkness
The light of the stars shine out
The man in the trench coat remains
He gazes up towards the sky
Two stars shine out brighter than the others
The man smiles
And with the sound of wings
Is gone.
