Kevin Eaglesfield - In Prism

It didn't snow again this year.
Easy on the eye drab
And hanging damp.
I didn't mind.
I found my own colours.
They were always there,
But the plug wasn't in.
All my greys and browns
And off-whites and steely sads,
And ennui and apathy,
And weary 'if onlys'
Chug and dribble and seep
Like overused oil through
The prism I was given, but forgot.
They splinter, disintegrate,
Split and fracture,
And spread, fresh and taut,
And vibrant and shocking.
I can see every atom.
I thank God for the greys
So I recognise the colours.

Kevin Eaglesfield

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-prism/