Gainsboro

Stung not by delusion, nor parental neglect,

Gainsboro the shade, I may never reject.

Evocative my prism, embellished with robust verbose.

Melodious vibrations, I so passionately compose.

Refrain:

Chromatic neutrality, my perceptive ideal,

Achromatic Gainsboro, my intuitive real.

Dim-Gray the slate, whence devil flies swarm,

Tarnished one’s silver, compelling me to conform.

Far from Ingot, void of a warmer caress.

Jet be this lignite; the tone of evil behest.

Refrain:

Chromatic neutrality, my perceptive ideal,

Achromatic Gainsboro, my intuitive real.

Experience, the crucible that forges my truths that emanate,

Enlightenment, the ablation that cleanses my anthology slate,

Eagerness, the bow that directs my greys toward white,

Esteem, the silver-lining that sheds my darkness for light.

Refrain:

Chromatic neutrality, my perceptive ideal,

Achromatic Gainsboro, my intuitive real.

Gainsboro the colour; my harmonic ambiguity,

Achromatic the shade, my inherent obscurity.

Gris be life’s stains, atoned, not absolved,

Consecrated to grey waters, is the me that evolved.

Refrain:

Chromatic neutrality, my perceptive ideal,

Achromatic Gainsboro, my intuitive real.

©Elizabeth Mary Langley