Gray

Gray as the clouds in the sky, 

monochromatic variations of a color devoid, 

neither white nor black,

somewhere in the middle of feeling, of thought. 

Gray as dead skin emptied of warmth, 

neither happy nor sad, 

just existing in a monotone chroma. 

Gray to move, 

Gray to stay, 

just Gray.  

Overcast eyes staring but not seeing, 

clouds never releasing a satisfying rain, 

always threatening. 

Cool breeze chill right to the bone, 

beautiful blue covered, 

Gray oppressively rules the sky's, 

shunning Sol and his sister Luna, 

Gray ambiguously defines a day, 

morning, noon, dusk, 

all the same hue.  

Gray neither good, 

Gray neither bad, 

just Gray.

Author's Note

Sometimes things are just gray....

Reviews

[Marie]

The colour grey and all the things associated with it are neatly captured in this poem! Thank you for sharing, Dave...

[Dave W.]

Thank you Marie for the review

[Marie]

Most welcome always, Dave...

[Davidgeo]

Graystillplays on YouTube fyi

[Dave W.]

what is that?

[Davidgeo]

I like when he plays the sims and creates absurd conditions for them to live in. It induces a sense of morbid curiosity we can't find very often.

[Dave W.]

Sweet........