November lingers listlessly
like frost upon the grass
a never ending mass
regret that will not pass—
December holds no mystery
just frigid, barren days
devoid of healing rays
till solstice sun allays.
Are You Reading Me?
Are You Reading Me?
Well said, my friend. It's like waiting in line to be tortured!
ReplyDeleteThe rhymes are nice! its just so depressing.I feel that a depressing poem creates a depressing world.
ReplyDeletehey shirl, just like life ;)
ReplyDeleteyo a&p read beyond the rhymes
Yup...difference is that we can choose to move out of line in life while the wrath of Mother Nature gives us no such option. I think we should go and spend the winter with Oz! I'm tired of these cold, snowy winters! They're enough to depress anyone.
ReplyDeletelol
ReplyDelete