He lived his days in monochrome;
grey suit, white shirt, grey tie,
bought in bulk to avoid choice.
At home he watched silent films,
ate powdered mash and white bread,
nothing with too much flavour.
He always yearned for cloudy days,
when detail was muted. Those times
his heart soared, but not too high.
He watched the days disappear,
passing him by like raindrops
sliding down a car window.
They found him on his grey sheets.
A smile, for the first time, on his face
which had turned as grey as granite.