It's a gray day. It seems as if
The whole world's standing still.
The sky is weeping misty tears
That mask the
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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