Meghan Lauinger ’26
I wake each morning to the same gray skies;
I wake each morning to the same clouds’ cries;
The rain won’t stop pattering, and nothing ever dries.
Bundled in four layers, but I’m still not hot;
Bundled in four layers, wishing I was in a sunny spot.
It’s cold as an igloo; winter’s worse than I thought.
The trees are like skeletons, stripped of their life;
The trees are like skeletons, the wind like a knife.
I feel like the trees do, struggling through this time of strife.
There is nothing to look forward to; spring break is so far away;
There is nothing to look forward to except the end of this bitter day.
It is such a dark time—I feel my happiness beginning to fray.
I long for June, where warmth and beauty combine;
I long for June, craving the everlasting sunshine;
I want to feel happy and free, instead of just fine.