(Or: Reflection upon the gray skies of January 22nd during a fifteen-minute break from Marxism.)

The first day of winter was long ago
and I look outside at all the snow
and the wind in the eaves continues to blow
and all that I want is to go, to go,
away from this dreary, gray and weary, miserable place.

1 comment:

RB said...

Seasonal affective disorder yes?

I agree Dan!