It is the cotton of your favorite winter blanket
And the fur of your kitten that you just adopted,
As well as the vase that stands empty in the corner of the living room.
It sounds like morning mist whispering on a Saturday
And the heavy thunder outside your window that shakes the glass ever so slightly,
Which causes you to seek comfort in turning worn pages from an old book.
It tastes like the smoke you exhale from your addiction (you wonder why you never quit)
And the ashes that fly into your mouth from burning all those old love letters,
Or maybe it is the capsules that slide down your throat after every meal.
It feels like the comfort of your stuffed elephant that sits inside a cloth basket,
The soft touch of a feather you found outside your doorstep,
And it is the texture of concrete biting your clumsy knees.
Gray can bring comfort or melancholy depending on your relationship with it.