a thousand clichés eddy and swirl

how the weather is too bright today

the sky should be burnt umber, or grey


and the sweet scent that hangs about the air

cant help but thicken my despair

(although nobody else appears to care)


and yet in spite of me,

the balding trees i see are filled with singing birds

their ringing voices pinch my cheeks

just like the frost in your indifferent words


while autumn breezes fill the air with song

the sun is busy painting colours on the sky

in this sublime perfection everything is wrong

and all i hear is you saying goodbye