Manhattan Grey

A foggy mist rolls through the empty streets and alley ways,
Curling around the chain link fence of grizzled browns and grays.
Everyone dressed in the same neutral and dull dun,
Hats tipped, breathe misting, eyes shaded from the sun.
The hollow clip-clap of passing shoes echoes ‘tween the fog,
Mixing with the leaden steel fortresses of unkings and their all.
The wispy smoke of urban bliss, darkens the setting sky,
Churning the yet undecided, faded clouds on high.
And as the dirty heavens start to cry an aqueous woe,
The ash and grit are swept away from my stripped and sodden soul.
I feel the gray be washed away in despair of its disgrace,
To leave the city shinning with silver light flowing on its face.
The icy grip of society lifted from their skin,
Our skyscrapers stand tall and graceful once again.
Sidewalks dull as lead, now kiss the noonday star,
Peaking from under cast shadows of buildings from afar.
Children dusky and uniform sparkle with unseen light,
As they pitter-patter in the puddles, turning the pavement white.
Our city may not have all the colors that catch the eye,
Nor appear the sullen shade of shadows, on the evening tide.
The avenues, buildings, clothes, shoes, are colored gray all around,
It is half white, half black, but never dull; drab; or brown.