December Dawn

I woke to whitewashed greenery.

I slid the glass, I rubbed my eyes,
I squinted into unibrow:
A whitewashed greenery it was.
Or rather, graywashed? Anyhow.

I wasn’t dreaming, that’s for sure.
You see, I had my pants on me.
I wasn’t dead. Unless the dead
Awake to pressure of their pee.

I shrugged and said my “C’est la vie”.
My “Life is like that only” line.
And as the lazy sun awoke,
I nodded to its absent shine.

Some things are clear only with time.

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