Winter Poem

It officially begins the twenty first,
though it feels like it started in November.
By February the novelty is gone,
much like the tans in September.
With holidays passed,
the excitement has left,
and we wait hoping for spring.
I turn on the tv and the weatherman says,
Good Morning Chicago it’s thirteen degrees!
I crawl back in bed, and think in my head,
Myrtle Beach Twenty – Eleven.
Winter please leave,
I’ve had enough of waiting outside in the cold.
So when the twenty first comes,
say: just kidding!
And go back to the North Pole.