To see bright crimson in late September,
A clearing of the air,
Blue skies gone til May,
And a cool breeze catches on skirt edges.
The world loses energy,
Looking to the coming months for inspiration,
Stuck in transition,
Viewing the world as it’s glistening imagined future.
Pointless pumpkin spice and the facade of All Hallows Eve,
The days drift by,
Seeming twice as long as they were a few months ago,
Dragging on into infinite minutes of fantasizing.
The rain begins alongside the shopping,
The endless barrage of advertisements,
Showing the latest treats,
They gain the attention of few.
Party after party,
Christmas seems close and time seems short,
Months have gone by,
Wasted on cheap booze and cheap dresses.
Snow is a promise made by mother nature,
But broken annually without doubt,
The muffled quietness and its purity,
Never truly appear.
Christmas Eve spent in the arms of work rather than family,
The day itself is a break from all but societies expectations,
Sleep and dreams for the few days left,
Praying for the chance to kiss the apple of the eye,
On the last night of the year,
Fresh starts as the new cycle begins.
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