It was one of those ‘grey days’-
The sky was grey,
The clouds, the weather, my mood-
All grey.

I walked down the worn down asphalt,
Its once crow black colour
Now faded to dull grey.
An old lady walked past me,
Her back hunched, her deaf ears
Sticking out of her lifeless grey hair,
Reminding me
Of ageing, and the inevitable grey
Years lying ahead of me.

The broken down homes,
Old and isolated,
Stood as though the grey walls
Existed only to serve as
A constant reminder
That all good things go to waste
One day.

The bland greyness of life
Matched the grey sweatshirt
I loved.
Talk about irony.

I never once took my eyes off
The pavement I was walking on,
Subconsciously counting
Each grey tile, until
Someone bumped into me,
Yanking me out of my thoughts.

Annoyed, I looked up.
Grey eyes.
It was not grey like the sky,
Or the clouds or the pavement.
It was a grey I hadn’t seen anywhere;
A grey I never knew existed.
A grey sparkling with wisdom,
Life and something else-
Grey eyes that saw beauty in everything-
Even life and its measly existence.

A greyness that sucked me in,
Showing me a different world
Through its coloured lens.
A world of purpose, freedom and adventure.
I suppose, beauty does lie
In the eye of the beholder.

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