Grey

Once upon a time, there was a little stony cliff that sat overlooking the sea. Upon it grew some green grey grass that rustled in the crisp cold breezes that swept across constantly. The white heads of the flowers would continuously bob in the wind, mimicking the white crests of waves that beat upon the rocks below. It was a quiet place, with only the sound of wind and sea and the occasional mourning cry of gulls.

The weather here was bleak for most of the year. Seldom were the days that the sun shone warmly to dry the salt crusted rocks upon the cliff. Perhaps when it did the little flowers would smile and tilt their heads back higher if the wind would let them. But it was more often that storms would rise from the seas to beat the cliff's surface with cold pelting rain and whip the waves below into a frenzy of heaving shadows that roared against the rock. The unrelenting rain would beat the flowers down and the salt spray would poison the earth they took root in.

Eventually, the grass began to die upon the cliff. Little by little it retreated from the edges of the cliff. The cold, harsh rain and sea salt were too much for the soft grass. As the roots lost hold of the soil the moist earth was washed away to reveal the barren rock beneath. And so the cliff's surface became bare and scarred by wind and rain and sea. Until at last, it was a but a dismal stone surface, an unmoving carving of the cruel elements of the earth.

And still, desperately upon its crown, a single white flower stayed watching over the sea. The thin broken grass was wilted and the its white head hung low. Across the vast sea it waited, yet neither beam of sun nor lessening of wind came but only impending dim cold and cruelty. Without hope it gave up its struggle and spent its dying breath; sighed and scattered its petals to the wind. The grass withered and was crusted by salt before at last the waves washed the handful of soil and blackened roots into the depthless sea.

So, the cliff now stands, folorn and forgotten, waiting. As eventually some day, the sea and wind will break it down too and all will be lost to the chaos of the churning deep blues and greens.

We dream of sunlit days and the kiss of gentle breezes.