Changing Seasons

The clouds come

Bleak as always. 

The leaves drop,

The nights chill. 

The coolness contagious,

Always calling to some part of me;

Begging me to join. 

To exist in the cool, the grey, the bleak. 

To forget the warmth of the sun

And the joy of living. 

To drown in the changing seasons and to let them drag me under with them. 

Will I let them? 

Should I let them? 

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-L