GREY
I am the color of winter in the city
day old discolored snow
I am the color of water flowing from a broken fire hydrant
the shine of oil on the street
the sound of ice crunching underfoot
frozen branches dipping down under the weight of ice
the screech of tires on the roundabout
fat icicles hanging in a row
I am the color of smoke-stained snow
cracked slate sidewalk
I am the color of an early-morning sky
melting sleet pressed down by the footprints of strangers
an abandoned bike, falling apart
the glow of headlights reflected on a watery street
the gleam of faded light off a window pane
rust eating away at an old car on the corner
I am not beautiful, nor do I catch the eye
I am muted, the backdrop of the stage
the shades between the extremes
I am the soft touch of sleep
the first, unseen rays of morning
I am the forlorn and the unseen
I am the ruined and the unborn
I am grey
I love this poem so much!
ReplyDeleteYour sensory details are really good and they perfectly describe the color grey. I love how you wrote out all the stanzas in short bits that are disconnected but weave together to form a clear representation of the color. I also really liked how you made the last stanza seem like an explanation or how the color grey feels about itself. Nice personification and, once again, good job!