When It's December
When it's December out, and the wind is cold,
Inside my blankets, myself I'll fold.
When the miserable drizzle, falls without,
My face sports a grimace and a pout.
Snug in my bed, dreaming of summertime,
Thinking that winter, should be made a crime.
Enjoying hot cocoa, with marshmallows afloat,
On a sea of brown, like miniature boats.
Yet nothing makes me blue, like a cold December day,
What I wouldn't give, just for one golden ray.
12/27/13 Alton Texas
Juan Olivarez's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
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