adventures in dysthymia

Thursday, October 02, 2014

Gray, a poem

Gray

I have sought to capture
the elusive colors of the clouds,
rushing after them with canvas and brush.

They ran from me, hiding themselves
in cloaks of shadow and light.
They have taunted me, the clumsy lover.

From sunrise to dusk, I have followed,
wondering if a touch of cobalt
would find that gray, before it fades.

Stephen Brooke ©2014

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