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Through Your Eyes

Shades of Grey in A Hollywood Basement

By Kiersten NolanPublished 5 years ago 2 min read
“The Hollow”

Primary three

Red, blue and yellow

Unique to me?

A holy trinity

“In the beginning was word”

Creative poetry

All color subsided

To show light divided

What makes me unique?

I raised myself,

Rarely discreet.

A hollywood basement

Is where I dwell.

And when not there

In the cellar square,

You’ll find me where?

Tripping over the pavement.

The world is grey

More than fifty shades

I’m sure.

I see no color.

I bring the color.

I am the color.

The world is grey,

Until I arrive

Some call me vain,

Maybe it’s my pride

Or maybe

Just a way to survive.

When summer comes,

You swim in color.

Blue oceans,

Consuming sands in strides

All shades of tan.

When summer is here

And the people thrive,

I disappear

Back in the basement

Where I dwell

And sulk in my fear.

I didn’t make the rules

I sure don’t enforce them.

How it works,

Many have theories

Including myself,

I could write a series.

The scientists say

“leave open a window of doubt”

But I’m locked in the basement

No windows or doors

Here,

For me to explore.

“God closes one”

Only to open another,

But I’m locked down here

Come every summer.

Full circle back

To the trinity;

The who

The what

The when

The where

The why

The how

Three holy colors

Red, yellow and blue

They make up the rest.

There’s endless shades,

Some have strange names

Explore any paint store

You’ll notice

I’m sure.

There’s even debate

About what passes for “color”.

So who are we

To define anything,

In regards to color?

We both look toward the sky

And agree that it’s blue

Or the grass be it greener

On the other side,

But I cannot see

Through your eyes

So how would we know

What appears to you

Does not appear

Vastly different to me?

We could never know

Because I cannot see

Through your eyes,

Nor you mine.

So we are all unique,

Theoretically.

Or

Am I the only one...

Who looks at the skies

Or the grass

Or shoe flies,

No matter the weather

The time whatsoever

Even on the sunniest of days

But can only seem

To find shades of greys?

nature poetry

About the Creator

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