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The colors of morning

Updated on October 15, 2009

The colors of morning...mourning colors


The grey falls down.

The grey has fallen.

Covering the waiting earth.

Clothing the naked sky.

This day is too thick, this day too heavy.

A winter like sky welcomes idle brains back from summer

It clings to the laughter of children, hangs on to their frustration

Summer echoes through my veil of fallen grey.

Through open windows

Across open wounds.

This pain too fresh

Crisp, white, accompanied by the snap of just out of the plastic.

The grey follows them in the pre dawn sky

Their shadows silhouetted against a deep blue of promises, too expensive to keep.

They take my mourning soul with them.

Away from the falling grey

Trying to put distance between my soul in this morning of grey

And the heavy weight of unspoken pulling

Dragging across a body worn.



The pain can be heard in the silence of this too early morning.

Through the falling grey.

Behind the veil of my mourning soul.

This heavy day soon became something else entirely.

Another moment trapped in a piece of memory.

Evening’s underskirt was still loosely trailing

Revealing the red and gold hints of day

The sky yawned then stretched, a touch of blue peered shyly around the corner

A gust of ordinary cooled the sizzle of St. Louis summer

Soon the quiet will be broken and I will feel

Your whisper through my soul, wonder briefly if

Maybe I’ll see you again, through the crisp clear day breaking across the sky.

See your smile again in the warm breeze, maybe.

Feel your arms around me chasing away fear and doubts, again, maybe.

Yet not now in this fallen grey.

That morning now etched in my heart, I’m leaving.

Following my heart again through a distance not measured in miles

A time standing still in that now-leaving

Stopping at that moment when we said hello

Your smile waiting to fill my empty space

This morning that space is only grey.


Covering the waiting earth

Wrapping my soul in its thickness

I fall into the grey

Become a fragment of the heaviness

Too full to move in this morning of grey

My mourning soul waits

Wonders, dares to hope?


Too fragile, too quick

The strands float loosely, in time with a cool breeze

Then disappear through the fallen grey.

The day became too much, too crowded  

My movements slowed

Energy drained, it dripped

Dropped to the dry earth.

Then you poured through me

Leaving traces of grey.


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    • Dirtdog profile image


      9 years ago from New Smyrna Beach / Edgewater , Florida

      Very nice: An interesting aspect contrasting morning with mourning Depth an dignity within.

      Cheers Dirtdog


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