There’s this place
When naked you
Stand downtrodden and
Weary cold shivering
Like that last
Leaf clinging to
The last branch
On the last
Day of October
When someone like
A tugging wind
Pulls you up
And says sweetheart
This thing that
You think that
You are isn’t
You
You are the
Thing that you
Are to me
And to me
You’re not the
Last of something
But the beginning
Of something else