On this cold, gray-wintry day,
The sun is nowhere to be found.

Listen! I hear the rain:
Pit pat, pit pat—dripppppp, plop.
Pit pat, pit pat—dripppppp, plop.

Like a sad song, its music play
To the melancholy lyric of:
“A Cold, Gray Wintry Day.”

It’s a new day
With new horizons.
A chance to explore
New frontiers.
New projections.
New directions.
New potentials.
New careers.
A chance to rise up
To the challenge,
And to conquer
All those fears.
It’s a new day
With new horizons.
Another chance.
A brand new year.

The fog is an illusion—
A master of disguise,
Which hides the tangible
Before our very eyes.

But when the fog has lifted
Everything’s still there,
And the tangible
Only seemed to’ve disappeared.

In the early morning
Or late at night,
The fog descends
Upon various sites.

It gives an air of mystery
That has long prevailed.
Dangerously intriguing
Is the fog’s foggy veil.