Before I met you, there was only
Good or bad, right and wrong,
Black or white,
Then you showed me the grey.

I believe I met you on a rainy Sunday, right?
I hate rain.
Sundays mean Monday is just around the corner.
Today was a black day.


That was my logic, if I didn’t like something,
it was bad, I didn’t question it’s innocence,
or ponder whether it was correct to rashly judge something.
That was just simply how I looked at things.
Until I met you.

Where was I? Ah, yes, the rainy Sunday.
Did I mention I hate rain?
I was stupid enough to forget an umbrella.
That weather man promised me sun.
My red dress was now drenched
In water.
I hate rain.


You came up behind me, and you’re grey umbrella,
protected me from the rain.
Did I ever thank you for that?
Well, thank you.


You said hello, and I responded in the same polite tone.
You were incredibly charming.
Yet your leather jacket and tattoos
Made me want to think you were a black thing, yet your bright smile
And kind gestures,
Told me that you were white.

Did I ever let you know?
That whenever you looked at me
My heart skipped a beat?
Well, it did.

I was perfectly fine, knowing only black and white
Why couldn’t you have been one of those two?
When I met you, I saw neither white nor black
I saw grey

I see grey as you embrace me
You have captured me in it.
And you changed me.
I was grey, too


Two years later we were standing underneath your grey umbrella
On a rainy Sunday.
Your protective arm across my chest.
Did I mention I love rain?