Greyscale

The heavy legs that drag across
A floor of cold, concrete
Still life

The photos a sepia frame
Of shutter chance
Un captured

(Would the taste of departure
Be sweeter then a memoir
Locked and kept like a mistress)

When the body lowers
Level with stone
Sleep is invasive
So persuasive
No longer elusive
As it was initially portrayed
In a black and white art

(Just loosing a foot over a scenery where people
Seem no bigger then ants under my shoe
Just to sense my body tingle in angst
Of itself)

Hush
Feign a silence
So becoming of nature

(A few tender feet closer
As the attention is spilled
In waking)

(Could it be a calamitous sting
To release the angst throughout
And greet the nation under my shoe
With a loud crashing shout)

poem by April Down
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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