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The Difference a Rhyme Makes
Ominous leaden clouds sink low in the sky overhead.
Tiny sparrows cease to fly and seek shelter instead.
Shadows fade, the sun slinks away and disappears.
The gloomy day only increases all uncertainties and fears.
Everything seems to have turned the colour of ash.
Morose feelings overcome me, as rain falls with a splash.
As I walk along it stains the pure white concrete slab.
As the day darkens, my colourful clothes look drab.
The ambience that surrounds me is most depressing.
I don a sullen expression. I can’t stop myself stressing.
As the rain subsides, a misty fog draws in like a curtain.
I can’t see the colours of day. I must get home for certain.
Dispirited and glum, I can hardly tell black from white.
The unwelcoming day to my dismay has turned to night.
This empty sadness I feel renders me deeply down cast.
I know I will be OK when I arrive safely home at last.
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