monochrome
The walls are painted white;
I think they’re too bright.
Outside the window, the dark of night.
Between the two, the difference is slight;
shades of grey in my sight.
I flip the switch, turn off the light.
On white walls, shadows alight—
nearly black, but not quite.
Between the two, the difference is slight;
shades of grey in my sight.
Passing headlights—shadows take flight
through the blinds from left to right.
In my eyes the light is a blight.
Between the two, the difference is slight;
shades of grey in my sight.
Bryan Bale
