One is the loneliest
But two is colder than
Three is bolder
And four just wants to be
Five as soon as possible.
And six? Well, six and seven
Are with you. Hanging out
Till eight is home, late and drunk again
On that wine that nine thought was oh-so-fine.
And in bed by ten
Eleven felt the room spin. So
Twelve took a walk in the dark
To start it all over again.
(I don’t even know what this is. I just like to make silly rhymes at times.)
Anita DeRouen 