Every day is a new forecast
And each day passes much too fast
The cold comes our way
Twelve more to Christmas day
The lights are all up
Hot chocolate in the cup
Everyone is bustling
Dead leaves are rustling
I smile.
Hiding it all the while,
Nobody knows I'm stuck
I guess it's all my rotten luck
All I know for sure...
Is that I'm Stuck In November.
YOU ARE READING
The Collection
PoetryOkay so you see an artist's sketchbook and it can be full of random fun doodles or just scribbles. This is kind of like that. Except it's my poetry. And I don't know if there's a word for that but please do read and feel free to critisize as long...