You always wanted snow
It wasn't fair that it was always mine
Accurate predictions lead me to wonder
Whether the weather patterns are really just that -
Patterns.
I suppose they are in some aspects
History tends to repeat itself
Which reminds me of a harsh reality that bites like the wind
On some early dawn in January
Perhaps it's just the monotony
Whirling blizzards lead me to blindness and frustration
When all I want is a warm day
With no snow.

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