Autumn you are at once hot-handed shifting gears in your blustery boots November was singing like a spoiled canary prodding us away from sunny windows…
Autumn you are at once hot-handed shifting gears in your blustery boots November was singing like a spoiled canary prodding us away from sunny windows…
A curt, little wind cuts abruptly stabs full through heavy handed despair sitting here waiting for the sun to throw off harsh shadow bleakness sift…