It doesn't have to be late
November to illustrate
some rain and mud in your rhyme.
Try to remember your mate.
You were together at school.
He knew that time was a tool
to make more sense in each flash
of life. While you played the fool.
Now he's being burried. The leaves
resemble something that cleaves
two people on a cold day.
It rains when smebody grieves.
Alexander P...
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-doesn-t-have-to-be-late/
