On the grey day


On the grey day 
I miss 
The Sun’s light, 
The blue Sky 
With wispy clouds, 
I want 
To heat 
And dry 
The air outside. 

On the grey days 
The bare trees 
And sleeping gardens 
Make me sad, 
Impatient, 
And sometimes, 
Quick to anger. 
I think too much. 

On the grey days 
I try 
To hibernate 
To retreat, 
I close 
The blinds 
Against 
The Sky; 
To avoid 
Nature’s course. 

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On the grey days 
I warm the house, 
And cook, 
And clean. 
I turn 
The music up 
Just a notch, 
Always playing 
In the background. 

On the grey days 
I find it hard 
To talk, 
To express 
My thoughts 
Except through 
Written words. 
And even then, 
I think… 

On the grey days, 
I do not understand 
Myself. 

by   Yvonne Horton
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