When season gets cold and souls colder
Tears freeze before reaching a shoulder
Stories of summer feel older and older
And a weather of solitude starts.

When vagrant hands seek shelter in sleeves
Drifting in desolation that no one believes
Lies beyond the beauty of fallen leaves
On a forest floor, until autumn lasts.

When surrounded by a shroud of mist
It blurs all boundaries within which exist
A reason to live and reluctance to persist
At a point of time, the reason parts.

When melancholy manifests in all eyes
At doorstep of dejection, winter arrives
Waiting for December, some days realise
There’s no place for November hearts.

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