The children play,
like back in my day.
Their red noses stand out in the snow,
As their smiles continue to grow.

Inside I do sit,
A long with my lit.
Homework as high as the snow,
And hot embers glow.

Hot chocolate for all,
The kids have a ball.
I read textbooks and papers,
As the kids sit round the shaper-
of ballons till its time to go home.

It's eight fifteen,
The roads look mean.
I travel away from the house,
Quick as a mouse.

For me it is time to go home.
Away to it I do roam.
On towards my home,
In hopes of a warm drink with foam.

Alas in the warmth,
I find a great wreath,
Tea to be made,
A syllabus I must bade.

Still homework to do,
I take of my shoe.
Sitting down at my table,
I begin to write my little fable.

For math can wait,
English is my true fate.
The storm rages on,
And in a blink I am gone.