Fall Morning

November 9, 2015

I wake in the morning, and it’s still dark;
The winter grey has come.
Light shiver from the kiss of cold air
And the sharpness that pierces
Like an arrow when I breathe.
Trees outside my windows droop,
Beams in the wedding hall undecked,
The few leaves are mere remnants of a dream
Of summer racing through the streets.
Yes, summer, with its promise of forever,
Hinted but never spoken,
And now in these dark northern days
With iron clad skies, summer’s mocking laughter echoes.
Come, lets rise from this slumber
And walk the grey streets, with grey skies and grey people,
All funeral quiet with listless eyes,
And face the wreckage of dreams, all dreams
As they and I
Wish to be elsewhere, anywhere, but here.

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