What Color Are These Eyes?

A special twilight,
storm’s rolling in;
the air is heavy,
the light is dim.

The fervent sunshine,
only sits in pools.
Overcasting shadows,
the mercury cools.

I see somber slate,
staring back at me.
An ashen spirit,
made of concrete.

Behind flannel glass,
are clouds passing by.
Silver sharks swimming,
elicit a sigh.

Like charcoal newsprint,
or smudged lead cement.
The dappled iron
of a Confederate.

Wrapped in the wisdom
of the oldest age;
or the steel resolve
behind blinding rage.

– Phoenix Aradia

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