SAD SUNDAY

A sad Sunday, 

I don't know why,

I wake up and want to cry,

Maybe a bad dream ,

I can't remember,

Or maybe because it's nearly November,

When the memories,

Of my misspent youth,

Come back to haunt me,

Like blowing leaves on the roof,

When the warmth of the fire,

Makes me recall again,

The times, the places,

And lost old friends,

Who are gone forever,

Without a goodbye,

Always wanting the truth,

But then living a lie,

An Autumn chill,

Crawls up my spine,

Harbinger of winter,

And frosty pine,

Afraid of the falling,

That I know must come,

And ending this poem,

Cause it's just plain dumb!

BURMA SHAVE

LOL!