The sky is a shade of angry air
With the false illusion of gray
The kind that foreshadows agony
That never goes away
Skyscrapers high and paves on the ground
Serving as concrete masks
Wallflowers hide as wallflowers do
From people walking past
Never does a color floss
Through trench coats and slacks, all the same
Never does a person pass
Who knows more than your name
For wallflowers hide as wallflowers do
And no one really cares
For those wallflowers grow, ivy on brick
It never moves, but it's there.
"Why do they matter? The sky, the paves, the people who walk them? They don’t. Not to you, they don’t. But they matter to me. I am a noticer. I am The Noticer." - the story I'm trying to write.