The Sun

The sun is missing today. This bear can attest to that. His shades are useless, farcical, with their oversize hearts. London skies are a sun vacuum, replacing the brilliant golds with bitter grey. I feel it today, a particular type of unkindness settling beneath my tepid skin. In Texas I would be burning with joy, instead of drowning in apathy. Come back oh yellow beam of light, return and warm my muted heart. Remind me why I love London summertime, or why I think I do.


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