Stevie Turner, Author.

NOVEMBER

Autumn leaves lie scattered where they fall,

No more do we hear the rooks’ loud call.

Jack Frost spreads tendrils far and wide,

Poor little robins have nowhere to hide.

As you step out for a winter walk somewhere,

Your breath clouds before you in the frozen air.

Put on a warm coat, gloves and scarf,

It’s November; don’t do things by halves.

Don’t forget the furry boots and a nice warm hat,

Put a basket by the fire for Kitty-cat.

Maybe it’s Bonfire Night or Thanksgiving you’re fond,

It all depends on your side of the pond.

But whether you’re British or whether from the USA,

November’s the same – it’s all cold and grey!