Shades of Gray

 

How does one return 

to a world of black and white 

after living through one sunrise? 

The color explosion 

invades the senses 

and refuses to relinquish its hold 

The morning comes 

without a flare 

and duty demands 

a simple breath 

Hands move through 

the quiet chores 

tracing edges 

now dull and flat,

while behind the eyes 

the fire still burns 

To survive, 

the heart complies—

it bows its head, 

takes up the tool,

and learns the rhythm of the stone 

Yet every step 

across the floor

is taken on a floor that bleeds

with everything that used to be 

Every sunset returns 

to black and white 

How can one 

walk back 

into shades of gray?

How will one adapt 

to living a life 

without the highs and lows 

the height and breadth 

of their previous existence?

Clipped wings 

hobbled feet 

condemned to dream in color 

trapped between memories 

and the chains of the gray 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

September 25, 2026 

“I miss who she was. I love who she is.”