The Poem of Gl1tches
Gl1tch writes a poem. You must make a card idea based around it.
I'm in.
November
by ~0Gl1tch0
Every year the seasons turn
And all the young oak trees do learn
About how their leave's color's return
Makes them look like their tops burn
But as their leaves begin to brown
Their smiles turn into a a big frown
Although they love their colored crown
The wind blows and their leaves...
fall....
down.
As november comes on high
The evergreen trees do sigh
They watch all the oak trees lie
About how their leaves never die
They lie in wait as the month flows
They giggle in secret, each one knows
That every November, when the wind blows
The leaves will leave their pretty foes.
And so, each winter, we oak trees weep
The evergreen's insults hit us, deep
And as the days slowly creep
We oak trees cry ourselves to sleep
And in the winter, no one sees
We oak trees, sad, without our leaves
To add to their bullied glee
Evergreens are made Christmas trees
All winter they have their fling
They prance and laugh and tease and sing
We oak trees may be lacking "bling",
But old oaks know what comes in spring
As the younger oaks awake
They look in puddle; they fear heart break
Relief comes from all the ache
When they see the blossoms their branches make
And so every single year
November brings a dreadful tear
But those evergreens had better fear
Because ever slowly, spring draws near.