The world is asleep.
the wind is dry and uninviting, and the sky is overcast and grey.
no snow in Texas, only yellow front lawns and cold concrete streets to greet my tearless eyes.
The bare-armed trees reach passively towards the sky, begging the sun to come back from it's seasonal rendezvous.
It doesn't listen.
It climbs higher in the sky, hiding behind the clouds. laughing down, mocking it's subjects. it's slaves.
"It's not time yet, I'd rather stay up here than have to warm the earth for summertime"
but when WILL it be time? when can we hope for rays of sunlight and light-hearted peals of life-giving laughter to envelope us in an embrace that reminds us we are alive?
the cold, the horrid cold, with its spidery Jack Frost fingers tickles our spines and causes shivers to rack through our beings. a cruel joke it plays on us; its a prank we cannot escape.
no mercy, no intervention on our behalf from the sun.
we are destined only to be prisoners of a dreary world, half asleep in our quiet cocoons. the hibernation that will take its toll slowly silences the protests of even the boldest.
all that you can do now is...
sleep
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