As the summer turns to
fall,
It is best to stay at
home.
Here and there are
stormy squalls
And yet meandering we
roam.
As the autumn turns to
winter
And the rain disolves
in snow
And we're feeling cold
and bitter
Yet adventuring we go.
No cold treasure can
replace
Cozy snoozing by the
fire,
The smile of a familiar
face,
Yet we go tramping
through the mire.
Quester do you even
quest!
What greater glory can
you seek?
By going on this
jesters jest
You will be dead within
a week!
This was for my NaNoWriMo novel, but it stands very well on its own.
