Summertime come soon
While in my bed, I ponder and lay right
Feeling as though weather shall never change
And still it is always cold in my town
Considering its June, it’s clearly strange
Icy, frosty snow covering the ground
Leaves view of beauty and brutality
Like a baseball player hitting the mound
Creates a scene of physicality.
But summer will come again, I believe
The snow outside my house, will go away
The less I focus, the more I achieve
And the sky will turn white, instead of grey
I’ll continue to lay, and maybe sleep
But tears will not come, I will never weep.