Ok ... welcome the southern March ...
I'm looking for my Autumn Man
With sombre wit he understands the whips
and lashes of life's fickle whore
As colour drains onto the floor
My Autumn Man will wax and wane
sometimes sweet, sometimes vain
The breeze once warm turns hurriedly cold
"I just want someone to hold"
A fleeting riff, a sad refrain
a snatch of lyric belying pain but
as we rust, if its all the same
I'll have my Autumn Man again
(so it doesn't scan ... sue me!!)