Emma Mittiga

​

​

grey/gray

 

The world is gray.

Little rusted toy cars litter the

Concrete jungle

And an off tune symphony of

 

Horns

 

Are played

​

   “FORTE!”

​

And then the piano pedestrians are left behind

In the

     Dust.

 

Inside, the world is grey.

Families sit by the fire and eat burnt popcorn and

Poke the ashes back into the

     Embers.

 

The world, the world, the world…

 

And where am I?

Am I gray and dark and mean and cold?

Am I grey and dull with the lights dimmed down?

 

The world is

​

   GG

   RR

   AE

   YY

​

My tears are

     c

       o

         l

          o

            r

              l

               e

                 s

                   s.

​

They are gg

   rr

   ae

   yy.