Gray Day

Drab clouds form a great gray sheet across the sky.

Not even a bit of blue or a speck of sun can be seen by the eye.

Tree branches sway forlornly in the melancholy breeze.

Dry, crackling leaves rattle and rustle along the cold pallid sidewalk

As the moaning wind tumbles them onward.

Nearby, an old wizened widow wearing a long brown dress strolls in solitude,

Relishing quickly-fading memories of long walks with her husband;

His freshly-gone face filling her mind like the softly-rippling water in the lake.

A lonely teardrop falls from her weary, lined face

Making a dark, wet blotch in the dirt below her.

The distant laughter of playing children reminds her of her own children,

Now grown up and moved away,

Leaving her alone on this cold gray day.