November

Unreal city. Unseasonal cold.
Hollow and cold is time
Its fires spent.
Gray days are silent,
And the meager wind and muted sun
Mean little by themselves.

Silence grows along with cold.

He watches his life, outside,
Like a bystander.
Moving along the pavement
Covered with snow,
A park bench and a smile.

Memory protects the future
And blurs the past, but
It will be a long and silent winter.