Lady Grey

Why does she sit there, all alone and grey?

The sun sinks as the night begins to weep.

Umbrellas rise to meet quiet clouds of grey.

White are her fingers, her lips are poppies,

But grey are her eyes, and grey is the world.

Why is the world so lonely in her eyes?

The white moon rises in a sky of red,

But the coming night seems to be weeping.

Why must the sky be shrouded in grey cloud?

Rain falls on upturned umbrellas of red

Poppies, but she sees the world alone

In shades of grey. Why can’t she see them?

Pictures of all things pure are painted there

Before her. Love shines gently in fresh strokes

On the drear canvas stretched wide before her.

She holds her fingers, white, outwards to the

World, wishing that she could bear all her heart

Beyond what she sees all alone and grey.

She can’t see the hues that surround her life

For, though those eyes of cold grey, like endless

Skies, the tears of night clouds envelop her.

Where was the fire, that should burn like crimson

Poppies in the wells of her soul; gently

Smoldering in her eyes, giving them warmth?

She has forgotten. Tears from her grey eyes

Drowned all color from her life, all but her

Lips which are crimson poppies;

The only color in a world of grey

26 February 2007