Grey.

What is it to be grey?

With an E or an A?

It’s likely that you can count on one hand,

the number of people who’s favorite color,

is gray.

Ashy and mellow.

Like static and concrete.

The dull hue does nothing, not for you.

Yet for me?

Grey stands to be timeless.

A marriage of white and black.

It’s just as everywhere as those two.

You’ll find fans of the dark color

and fans of the pure shade,

yet what about it’s child?

Gray upholds a reputation.

As something so very soulcrushing.

“The grey cloud.”

Yet need I remind the, of the disco ball.

Beneath all the tiles and reflection of sun,

what is that sphere?

But a beautiful gray.

Of which you dance merengue beneath.

Or fox trot even.

Before counting it out,

Consider the locations of it.

Beyond the physical manifestation of depression,

and the color of an animal that may very likely dwell near the sewer.

Yes to be grey includes,

bathing and wallowing in the dark.

But for every moment spent in the dark,

Is several in the flourishing lights,

shimmering as if all the pieces of you broke just for this very moment.