Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
Frost, writing of cold November days,
with a name like that he should know
silver lace on glass in the low sun’s rays
and silent, still days before the snow.
Coincidence the name is, of course.
He wrote with more than just the hoarse
voice of coming winter and the cold.
With summer’s joy he could be also bold.
Line count: 8
Rhymed ababccdd
For Express It In Eight, 11.20.22
Prompt: Poem My November Guest by Robert Frost.
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