There are some days where the world is grey

Or tinted with monotonous tones

Tones that don’t deserve to be called a color

Tones that aren’t even close to being on the color wheel.

There are some days where the world is grey,

Or the colors are muted

Like a shovel that didn’t want to come in from the sun

And stayed in the sandbox, sitting there as the sun slowly leached out the color.

There are some days where the world is grey,

When the rain constantly beats down

Trapping you in a cage of blandness

When the sky and the ground and the world is all one color.

There are some days where the world is grey

When the sun has set and the sky is blank

And you look out and it’s just snow and more snow

And the sky isn’t recognizable from the ground.

There are some days where the world is grey...

To others,

But me,

I see a rainbow of possibilities,

Possibilities that are just waiting for me to add that first splash of color,

Or run back to the sandbox and bring my shovel inside from where I left it in the sand,

Where the rain is washing away the blandness from the earth and is waiting for you to come out and play in the mud, to wait and see the beauty when the water sparkles like liquid diamonds,
When the world is sleeping and pulling up it’s snowy blanket for another day of fun, and the ever soft snowflakes returning the snow back to it’s original form for another day of fun.