She gets a haircut every June   On a kitchen chair   Last year it couldn’t come too soon   Now she couldn’t care   Her mind is otherwise occupied      She sits cross-legged on the floor   In an A-line skirt   But she’d make a beeline for the door   If it was up to her      When the autumn leaves   Then the winter settles in   And sometimes it seems   As though that overcoat’s her second skin      She often speaks so softly   She sends me to sleep   She’s the opposite of coffee   She’s the last thing I need first thing in the morning      When the autumn leaves   Then the winter settles in   And sometimes it seems   As though that overcoat’s her second skin      Everything she says ends softer than it starts   So few of her sentences end in exclamation marks   She starts talking, I start yawning   She’s the last thing I need first thing in the morning