In between the dark grey and white lines of books lie the brightest of worlds,
When the clouds are ashen and blue they hold the most violent storms,
From here everything in space shines silver.
Concrete towers holding human existence loom over,
And lovers hiding in grey-black shadows
Bars pulsing with music and smoke –the ash carries the heavy jazz notes.
An infinite spectrum of shades made from black and white
Grey skies,
Grey lips,
Grey days,
Grey lives.