The American! How jovial and polite, always with a smile today, tomorrow, and oh so bright. He was the sweetest thing, voice like a crooner and the lust of a honeymooner.

It is no surprise I take, that he lasted through the summer? With sunflowers and daisies, we danced through the town's balls. Fall's leaves fell like his money, swirling in our wake. But alas, every carriage turns back into a potiron when the stroke of midnight tolls.

Fall on the cusp of winter's death, he shipped out on the sea of tears. I wish him well, but I did not dwell. For my home is here, and his is there, so a sad winter it had to be.

p3 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2831532