An ode to February (otherwise known as ‘Why won’t January just end?)

Feburary

As January drags its heels

my bank account turns red,

baked beans are now my staple meal

and all I want is bed.

 

Outside the frost and ice collect

their glitter hard and cold,

in wooly tights I must protect

my legs from sprouting mould.

 

At 5pm the darkness falls

a shroud that’s grim and bleak,

that forces me inside four walls

to pace like a caged freak.

 

With nine more days to battle through,

my patience has worn thin

as I stir watery bean stew

while downing warm sloe gin.

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