09-12-2014, 12:00 PM
Many years ago I once started a poem with the line,
"September was the real New Year for me. . ."
Never wrote a second line. That just summed it up. Never could see starting a New Year in the middle of Winter.
September was when you had to go up the driveway and stand in the chill morning air, waiting for the school bus. Summer, and the Old Year, were over.
/Mr Lynn
"September was the real New Year for me. . ."
Never wrote a second line. That just summed it up. Never could see starting a New Year in the middle of Winter.
September was when you had to go up the driveway and stand in the chill morning air, waiting for the school bus. Summer, and the Old Year, were over.
/Mr Lynn