Is it ever as dull as a cloudy day?

By Georgia Emerson

Is it ever as dull as a cloudy day?

Every single day in,

Every single day out,

Just hoping for a say.

Never a bore in a night,

Always a delight in the light,

Waiting for just a might,

Simply hoping for a sight.

Beyond the scene of loss,

Behind the sense of toss,

Feeling like a piece of moss,

Is never a sign of gloss.

Placing a lot more than a want,

Taking less than plot,

Knowing more than such,

Just for a taste of the rant.

Knowing more than less,

Is truly such a bless,

But, doubt will always leave a mess,

Especially after quite a guess.

Being the Belle of the ball,

Whilst growing an ego as tall,

Will possibly create a downfall,

Causing a massive brawl.