Thursday Mourning

November 21, 2011
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It’s not raining out, but it was. The pavement is dark;
Puddles of dirty water settle in the imperfections of the old tar.
You look up to see dull grey; it’s hard to differentiate
Between the clouds and the lifeless sky
There is no monumental sunrise or burst of color,
Just an endless expanse of slate.

This is the perfect morning to remember mourning.
The air is heavy with fog, mirroring your unclear emotions
Grief and sorrow mixed with the hope and longing
That tomorrow you’ll wake up
In an everlasting sunrise of breath-taking color
With her.

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