Today is gray, the kind of gray
That translates into gloom.
Though some may like this weather,
Many don’t, I would assume.
It isn’t hot and isn’t cold;
No rain is slicing down.
Yet it’s the type of day
That turns a smile into a frown.
The sky is filled with dusty clouds;
My jacket’s buttoned tight.
The river’s kinda choppy
And few seagulls are in flight.
Yet I should not complain at all;
A tugboat’s chugging by.
It’s doing what it’s meant to do
And really, so am I.
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