How did it get so late so soon?
It is growing cold. Fall is slowly turning into winter and putting footsteps in the meadow. One could say milk-colored maidens are dancing on the petals of orchids. How coldly burns our sun. One would say its rays of light are shards of snow, one imagines the sun lives upon a snow crested peak on this day. One would say he is a man who wears a gown of winter frost that blinds the eyes. Helplessness has weakened me. Wandering has wearied my legs, for I am still learning to make things nice for myself. Slowly building myself a home with things I like. Colors that calm me down, a plan to follow when things get dark, a few people I try to treat right. I don't sometimes, but it's my intent to do so. I’m learning. I'm learning to save myself. I'm trying, as I always will.
