A hundred shades slowly float up
Gray, each one, different, yet just the same
The gray of a rainy day, bottled up
The gray of that homeless man, without a name

The gray, of the river, turgid and muddied
The gray of the Viking, dying, bloodied
Dragon scales gray, inviting, yet deadly
Gray of the dark ages, boring, that medley

Tinges of colour, they try dropping in
The edges send them back, back the same way
Red tried, and blue tried, and yellow swept in
But in the end prevailed, only and only gray

History is gray, the past, gray hair and its hues
No matter the memory, happy or the blues
The dark depressing gray, exists to torment
It fills up yesterday, and leaves us spent

The gray of the ocean, such color under it all
Cobbled footpaths, and mice, and a crow’s call
Funnily enough, gray can be inviting, some days
There aren’t many colours as vivid as the grays