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Heading towards the end of the year

Can't wait till year is over.
When winters done it's thing,
After all that's happened this year.
It would be good to be filled,
With the joys of spring.

Then again January is nice,
For that was the best month.
When my carol ( if you couldn't guess),
When I asked for her hand.
She said yes,
After fifty fun filled years.

She still wears her wedding band,
There's no pop left in our fizz.
When we go out we still hold hands,
And cuddle when we kiss;
So no I won't give January a miss.

Carol just corrected me she says .
" It's not fifty years, It's been forty nine".
I would've written it into this poem,
( But I couldn't make it rhyme ).

Poetry by Alan J Ripley