Gray

Dark stars on a sunny day
‘Rain on me’ she pleads to say
White Parks dried by winter’s heat
Only grown kids play by the fireplace
The sun sweats from cold?
Invigorating!
Though, tale not well told as days of old.
But, who can narrate the story of stolen glory?
The pauses, the absence of presence, the tension,
Communication mode: tenses.
Excitement weans…
Silence slips in and no one notices,
Steals the show, now everybody’s applauding
‘Awake’! …what mother said to Slumber,
‘Summers don’t come in gray’



- 020606©Ub Matthews