green tree under the grey and yellow sky
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Gone are the days of clear, blue sky,
The streets are wet, no longer dry.
Gray clouds hover above my head,
This melancholy slowly fed.

Quench the fires that kindled slow
Feel the breeze that slowly blow
A breath, a sigh, escapes my lips
As drizzles fall, on pavement drips.

Gone are days of blazing sky,
Here is when the summers die
As proud leaves bow, the heavens cry,
No one here but me and I.


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