January 2, 2015

Flowers, once rich with colors of reds and yellows, Now bloom with petals of gray. Birds keep to themselves their sweet songs of praise as they dwell in the comfort of their branched homes. The air seems to hold certain heaviness, A thick sense of gloom and sedation, As the sun neglects to rise from her slumber. Clouds linger beneath her, holding within them the night before, providing a soft bed for her rest. She dreams in lush greens As she is lulled deeper from the soft songs of a new and bright day.