Untitled, a weather poem

It is what it claims to be.

Can I never have what I want?

Today it snowed, a blanket white, but the sun refuses to shine.
I've got snow underfoot and overhead, but the sun is on my mind.

Yesterday I saw the sun shining in the sky,
But the ground was wet with melted snow and I wanted it to be dry.

The day before was cold as ice reflecting the sun's glare,
I went outside but quickly retreated: I want warmth to mark my air.

Three days ago that warmth was here, but a deluge rain did pour.
It's January! It can't be spring, winter needs to stay a while more.

A week ago it was the same; the snow, the thaw, the ice.
This is a cycle I do not want, and greed is my choice vice.

The End

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