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Many A November

It's been many a November
Since I'd rise at the crack of dawn
To slip out into the hush of morning
And tread the powder on the lawn

For I used to wake the morning
And lay the first tracks in the snow
Bundled warm against the sharp air
And the many miles I had to go

It wasn't idle strolling
That drew me from my bed
It was the news of the day unfolding
A recounting of things done and said

For if a folded paper by your door
Greeted you early each new day
Well, I was the lad that laid it there
As I trudged along my way

And as many a paper opened
In warm kitchens across the town
I'd press on against the morning chill
Till I had laid my burdens down

Then I'd point my boots toward home
And think of the cocoa and the toast
And my dad glancing at his own paper
With a cup of steaming roast

Yes, it has been many a November
Since I early roamed the roads
I've since laid down my paper bag
Though now I carry different loads

I'm up early this November morning
Awake as these memories in my head
Yet my warm love's sleep gently beckons
So I'll slip quietly back into bed

© Matthew Schilling November 2014
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