It's painfully ironic of you

To come on days like today

When the wind sings through the leaves

And the Sun calls to the flowers

While the clouds roll and play with one another

And Time seems to slow his pace to take it all in

Why can't you be more cliché

And follow rainstorms and their frigid gales

Or creep in at the darkest hours of night

Presence unnoticed until you leave your mark

Why must you be so greedy, such a thief

Stealing warmth from our lights until

They become so cold it burns

Maybe if you gave an answer

It wouldn't hurt to know you so well…