Grey is a comfort
In a scratched, sorrowful corner
Pale light flickers in
A bright ring sat beneath
Heavy rolling clouds
Grey offers a path for a poisoned soul
When hope rests, and everything else
Has no colour, grey is there
Delivering rain, masking the sun
Ointment for a blight
Discomfort for the cured
Grey is in between
I can hide there
From the harsher light, that spots me
Makes me improvise again
When I need to sit and write
Without that glare, the baited breath
Grey shines on me
In defeat, or victory, celebrating neither
I am not welcomed
Nor am I spurned
I take a place and make it mine
For a while.
@nepion_boreas17
