Some days seem dark and grey and dreary
Full of things repetitive to see,
Worthless and constantly so weary
That they can sap vitality.
These days have happened frequently
For me in recent months, and so
It is with joy I finally
Observe that feeling turn and go.
I know the day will see some snow,
A full-on cover from the clouds
A bunch of people who will grow
By tedious manners into crowds,
And yet I do not care: the day
Is not depressed, but wild and gay.
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