Sitting in my office, armed with a pencil in my hand,
I just feel like writing, now all I need is a plan.
It's an early December evening, the temperature outside is cold,
With the wind blowing, to stay outside, you must be bold,
The nights seem long this time of year, with colorful lights,
Shining all over, You notice the season of Christmas is near.
The radio, is playing some friendly songs, for me to hear,
While my dogs lay on the floor, so near.
I am still trying to think of something to write about,
At this time, I guess it will just be a moment, in this life of mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thinking Thinking and thinking more deep makes a writer deepest poet