Time Stands Grey

It was a grey day, grey like the wool of her coat. 

Small things make me trusting: red hair, 
humming along to an Al Green song. 

Time steps back with a smile as 
we wander woods under bare branches, 
squishing through mud for the experience of it; 
a carpet of leaves for our feet to kick. 

Or stretch out on them, staring up at the sky with shining brown eyes,
as I marvel at small things and the luck of a beautiful, grey day. 

Small things -- a coffee cup empty and warm, 
a comfy chair empty and warm, 
hearts full, and warm. 


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