at the birth of dawn, emerges the lazy november sun,
ah, sleeping until late in the morning is so much fun
and then there is bouts of that special afternoon shower,
silver beads of water glistening on a bright red flower
there is somethin' special 'bout the november sky,
gazing at it, you never know how time passes by,
the smooth touch of the gentle evening breeze,
makes you go silent and pass into a motionless freeze
shadows of outstretched branches, on a november night,
dance to the sweet tunes of the filtered moonlight,
the moon plays hide and seek with the passing clouds,
making you wonder what mystery the nightfall shrouds
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