It's still not ok, but then again, when has it ever been...

There's nothing but grey skies
I can just about glimpse them through the door
As much as I tried
I still find it hard
Sitting on the lowest stair
Watching through the screen door

A simple comfort, it always is
Watching as the first few drops fall from the sheets of clouds
Creating channels across the dirt on the glass
Bright, despite everything
Bright against the pale white paint

Its good to not have to think
It can get overwhelming
And I'll admit to one thing
As much as I'm remiss to static opinion
Catching just a glimpse or two of
A passing black bird or
Something...

Just to remind me