November Poem by Wegolonyo Erick
November
All is bold, cold or gold
Except one this sublime,
That which this is called;
It tempts such compline.
Time and again this time
'Tis the very timeline
That rises in its fall,
Nonetheless all to remember
This route passing away
Cannot but it is November.
Monday, February 19, 2024
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11/1/2025 2:13:54 PM # 1.0.0
