An arid, cold fog sets in
On the once emanating morning,
And dampens our planet once more.

A wet, ebon oaken wood bench lies
In the place where the usual bench rests.
And the grass glows an affluently ardent amber,
Drowning out the sulfuric gray clouds.

On this day I look and wish
That someone was by my side,
And we could share
This gloomily wet,
Yet so intensely vibrant
Visage of life.