For some a sad sort of day,
a day to lounge about, no
inducement or motivation,
no reason for stimulation.
It is a quiet greying day,
the sky shows no excitement,
just flattened shades of grey.
Air is warm and full of rain.
All is still, no wind blowing,
no peeping sun is shining,
a half light of quiet gloom,
appears to paint no colour.
At rest with a peace that’s
settled down a few survey
greying summer landscape,
seek out the brighter colours.
They see the trees are emerald
green with yellow blossoms,
flowers have lots of colour,
a bright red bus is passing.
Breathing in the warm moist air,
they survey the patterned clouds,
with their pretty shades of grey,
and proceed to write a poem.
07-01-2010
Bob Blackwell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poets-choice/
