life is sighing out fog
breathing in the last days of ripeness
exhaling a morrow of stark callow twilight.
a hint of mellow fermentation still dulcet in her breath
she is suspiring mist and diffuse drizzle
and hoarse clods of earth and forgetting
and rhythms of rain
cadences on shaven pastures
and raucous raven chants dissolving
in hazy nebula lands.
life is an autumn stone rolling
is a vagabond falling
is a lady sighing out the road.
she's a vagrant vamp in transit
a laden wanderer wearing
masquerade and melancholy
she's a hobo with a load.
and she's walking along the rugged ramp.
and she's got november on her hands.
the lady is a tramp.
life is a lady, and the lady's a november tramp
- panta rhei
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- hester_prynne
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