November,
how quickly it is here,
and winters chills,
the icy cold, and the tumbles and the spills,
on the pavements,
whereby through accident,
we get unfortunate momentary unwanted thrills,
because of the cold and the grey and the wet,
and the ice and the snow,
but there is no snow and ice just yet today,
yes, no ice and snow,
that is few and far between these days,
and how I wish the rain was not so regular,
and oh, what it does to my brain,
yes, it drives me insane,
and oh, how I complain,
not funny at all I say to the sky,
as I shake my fist at it far too regularly,
whilst expecting God to get annoyed,
and for him to kill me with a lightning bolt,
but instead, all I get is,
grey, grey, grey,
and the pleasure of being alive, as I sigh.