Missing San Diego


The grey sky looms low, clouds roll, winds blow.

I stand solo in the frigid air, bare feet freezing on the concrete below me. 

I cross my arms and shiver; I am not accustomed to winter despite once living in Virginia.

And now I have returned, my indian summer’s spurned.  The sun-kissed glow is slowly ceding to pallid form.

I hold my palms up to catch what drops for now it has begun to snow.


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