What is adore is not the sun.

Its golden rays of warmth.

What I adore are the grey days.

Especially when the icy rain pours down.

The days that force the summer folk inside,

Hidden from the gloom.

What I adore is a terrible day

That sends airy shivers through the trees.

That marks the end of an endless summer

With its shock of thunder.

What I adore is the fall.

Though a bit cliche to say,

I do not care for the sun.

I much prefer a cloudy day.

What I adore is the rain 

Though when it lies heavy up above,

I’ll write poems to the sun.

Wishing for its comforting light, 

wishing for its return.

But for today it can stay there,

tucked into its bed of clouds.

For I cannot control the day.

I do not adore the sky,

But today I adore the grey.