There is nothing interesting here.
Grey stone, grey metal, grey hair
and the vicious.
Brutalism birthed this fountain,
and Modernism birthed Mondrian
who left his mark on the erupting clock tower.
A corral of pound shops glare
through glaucoma windows, their shutters
blink shut in grey light.
Grey centre of a grey town.
Grey clouds shroud a grey county
on the outskirts of a grey capital,
connected by grey veins that sit on grey
Light touch of the water mist on those
Hemispherical spheres observe grey
souls from above, from below,
as they tread through gum-speckled concrete.
Grey beak pecks at a single spongy
salt-crystallised starch matchstick
in the act of ungentle dissolution.
A yellow resistance.
Lucent Dreaming is an independent creative writing magazine publishing beautiful, imaginative and surreal short stories, poetry and artwork from emerging authors and artists worldwide. Our aim is to encourage creativity and to help writers reach publication! Subscribe to Lucent Dreaming now, support us on Patreon and follow us on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.