In the absence of snow, an overcast of a gray blanket covers the sky;
Gusts of winds dance around the city, jumping, twirling, up, up high.
The rain kisses my brown cheeks as I daydream of being what I should be,
Wishing I was like those drops of rain: cold, fast, yet free.

As the sun sets to return to its home, the coldness awakens.
With it comes darkness, the winds dances in fury, and the stars brightens.
We retreat to our houses, the warm, gentle aroma of coffee as it brews,
Hoping that the day after would bring a little less gray and a little more blue.