Dreary grey

 

Dreary grey sort of day,

slate shaded rain

drains the colour away

and the sound,

a numbing drone,

gratingly plays.

Betraying nature's beauty,

the fascinating bouquet.

 

The sloshing rain.

This march afternoon refrain,

glugs down the dirty drains,

floods the streets,

washes away the stains.

Leaving only

reflective puddles 

to remain.

 

The glum, grim grind

of this afternoon deluge

plays tricks on the mind.

Offers no refuge, no pastel hues

only gunmetal blues,

darkened skies 

turned upside down,

like smiles that formed

the wrong way around.

 

Seemingly extending,

the downpour never suspending.

Feels like a death sentence,

with no end date impending.

Left to wait,

for some kind of happy ending.

Clouded over

sulky leaden skies,

touching the buildings that rise

but I walk in the down pour

on these grey streets once more

and the rain washes away

the tears I once cried.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Kyle