Grey
It is still early enough to maintain hope
A few more parties, a few more laughs
But even so, it is grey
A bone chilling, soul clouding grey
Foreboding and foretelling of February
The greyest time of all
Empty and stretching on and on
So much cast in the middle
That you can no longer remember
The excitement of summer
Nor the nostalgia of autumn
Waiting, sniffling, wondering
What else was there ever
Besides this?
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