November In Brookline

<br>Fate flickers like a newsreel. <br>It`s dancing across the dark wood restaurants, <br>the empty sidewalks, <br>and the hotel lobbies that have started to fade <br>so that the deep reds are now a dirty pink, <br>and the elegance they had before has been stripped and covered in dust. <br>And there are countless yesterdays <br>that were supposed to be something more. <br>But as time blurs them, the edges soften <br>and you can carve a monument out of broken glass and sand. <br>Nothing is uglier than former beauty. <br>It`s the curse of the starlet. <br>Sunlight can be a horrible thing. <br>Fate still smiles demurely as the leaves clog the gutters, <br>and the red bricks chip and sink further into the ground. <br>Time wears you down. <br>Time will spit on you. <br>Time marches on. <br>Its promises fell through, <br>and there are countless yesterdays where promises fell through.