Fall, even the name says down
Crushed into the earth.
The leaves of autumn become
No more than mulch, sacrificing what has been
To a future spring.

Foot falls, damp, the lamps of
Twilight wash sidewalks
Already wet with fog
Old songs filter through
The air thick with might have been.

Low moaning of horns and whining of clarinets
Sing of places at the end of a bar,
Old movies, and mysterious women in black
A time when gravity finally wins
Taking hold of a year almost done.

Cocktails and Broken Hearts by Jack Vettriano