By Ivor Griffiths
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Grey Scale
He stared into mist, on a shale shoreline of crunching grey stone, like a chrysalis crushed. Hearing whispers hissed by the freezing rain, The weary outsider shouldered the wind, in heavy black boots, struggled to stand peering into mist on a shale shoreline.
Flinching at the screech of a gimlet-eyed gull, the stooped-back stranger raised his hand. Hearing whispers hissed by the freezing rain
pointing at the wreckage, splintered and wrapped in sea-scent, limpets, seaweed, and sand; peering into mist on a shale shoreline,
the white-noise soothing of gentle grey waves, like the static fizz from a radiogram. Hearing whispers hissed by the freezing rain, numbed faces cupped by our shaking wet hands, shivering and blowing, with shoulders hunched, peering into mist on a shale shoreline, hearing whispers hissed by the freezing rain. by Ivor Griffiths 2007
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