The temperature falls and my mind
Becomes a blank slab of nothing.
No words are written, nothing drawn,
Simply a void of anything worthwhile.
Now comes the other season of colors
When the trees shed their leaves
In anger of the coming cold.
So, it's back to school, back to sweaters
And actual shoes. Oh, how my feet
Dread being closed up and yet loathe
The cold.
Can't I send it back, somehow?
Could we skip it and just return to my love,
The sun and warmth?
No, some order must be retained.
I resign to another cycle of cold in order to
Welcome the summer again in full adoration.
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