Image by ViaMoi via Flickr
"A new beginning is due!" says the wise radio weatherman,
Yet for all I can see, the gloom of winter still does stand;
The wind is cold and breathless, each tree bare and wan
The sun for sure is not smiling, or helping anyone's tan.
Dark clouds on the prowl I watch as the rain comes dripping down,
It's that kind of grey evening, that they write sad songs around;
If I were the worrying type, my face sure would wear a frown
A thousand morose thoughts would spring, at thunder's rumbling sound.
What then is, you may ask, my way to beat the blues?
One of these days, I say, the old man's words will ring true;
Melancholy doesn't last forever, even the deepest possible hues
Wake up to brilliant green you will, no telling where winter flew.
The season of hope, the season of promise, may be biding its time,
Once spring's here you'll see, sadness ain't worth a dime.