In November the chill starts to bite,
And the days trade their blue for twilight.
The leaves have turned gold,
And the air is crisp and cold,
And the day quickly turns to night.
In November the chill starts to bite,
And the days trade their blue for twilight.
The leaves have turned gold,
And the air is crisp and cold,
And the day quickly turns to night.
Verily, I like an acrostic!
Even when writing a limerick
Rritten just so…
Seems my spelling’s a no-go
Especially when I write them quick.
The forecasters told us of Claudia,
A storm that could induce nausea,
The rain came down fast,
The wind had a blast-
And left us all wetter and gaudier.
I was pedalling home through the rain,
My legs and my patience in pain.
A car gave a splash,
My hopes turned to ash:
Next time I’ll just take the train!
The rain on my window went “plink,”
So I stayed on the sofa to think.
But I started to doze
Then, deep in repose…
I floated away in a wink.
I wish the clocks didn’t go back,
This darkness has thrown me off track.
By four it feels night,
No sunlight in sight,
My motivation’s under attack!
A poppy now blooms where they fell,
Its scarlet a soft, wordless knell.
We remember and pray,
Each Armistice Day,
That peace may continue to dwell.
I stepped in a puddle, then froze,
As water seeped in through my toes.
My socks held a pool,
I felt such a fool,
Because now I squelch where I goes.
While roses have called it a year,
My strawberry’s full of good cheer.
Its fruit, bright and red,
Defying winter’s tread,
A rebel that laughs at the drear.
I opened a box with delight,
Though Christmas was nowhere in sight.
It’s only November,
But I can’t remember
a rule that says waiting is right.