A Gray Day

It's a gray day. It seems as if

The whole world's standing still.

The sky is weeping misty tears

That mask the middaysun.

The clock moves at a turtle's pace

And on its' face, a frown,

Disdaining all activity,

Which would otherwise be fun.

 

A gray day doesn't have a friend.

It stands all by itself.

A day for calm reflection

To be placed upon the shelf.

A day to just forget that

You have promises to keep,

To just turn over, pull the shades,

And drift back off to sleep.

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