Looking out my window
At a bitter winter day
Knowing though I’m weary
I’ll be working anyway.
The grass is gray and brittle,
The trees rise gray and sere
The skies are gray overhead
What could be more drear
I look inside my heart and soul
The answer is plain as day:
Painted there inside myself
Are the twenty shades of gray.
Here’s the dull fatigue
Born of sleepless nights
When nightmares dimmed with age
Emerge when off the lights
Here’s the saddened fear
Of the whispers in the hall
When omission is seen clear
But commission isn’t seen at all.
Here are the faded pages
Of bills as yet unpaid
The dust and dirty cobwebs
And beds as yet unmade–
Here’s the empty evening
When I knit and quietly recall
Other times and other climes
Yes, I remember all.
I know that come the morrow
The sun will shine again.
I know that there will be a time
I’ll feel the warmth of family and friends
But till that day I hold myself
To the duty not yet done
I’ll keep my hands busy
While I wait the coming of the sun
While I keep from counting
The twenty shades of gray.