CRUEL MONTH POEM
December is the cruelest month, or so I’ve been told,
Winter rains down ice and snow.
She is a bitch that makes me feel so cold,
She reaches out her bony fingers upon my head she will blow.
my arthritic pains multiply in December,
and with it the promise of death across the land.
It is so cold spring is hard to remember,
Ahhh Spring the memory of it makes me feel grand.
The trees, the grass have all withered and died,
I clench my teeth through my lips chapped and dry.
I sink into my coat at the side,
As the wind whips down from the sky.
A frozen wasteland as far as I can see,
I cry out from all the bitterness I feel.
This dreariness does not help my chi,
I am not full of any zeal.
December is the cruelest month I know,
It comes down to the will to move on,
To move on and go with the flow.
Praying for Spring and December is gone.