Shades of Gray

                                     A man in black,
                               blurred, as the beating
                                 wings of butterflies
                                 cannot be captured.
                                 Smudged, the steps
                                        he took, lie
                                          smeared
              ­                          on his past,
                     like a wake     of     mud printed
                                            soles.
             ­                         He’s cryptic,
                             obscure as the pictures
                                  drawn to fill an
                                 empty       space,
                       unknown as       those behind
                        him. Come         back to
                   airplanes and          clover leaves,
           childish bathroom            walls. These tiles
           are trodden weary           shades of gray.