Da Vinci’s Grey

Hays of greys and time passes

Greys are grey just like masses

There is but the One

But who find her can?

Only Da Vinci in his shop,

With the passion and the shot,

Of the vodka in his hand,

Painting nothing but grey land.

In his search or perfect hue,

Not the green, red or blue,

But ordinery grey

But now there he lay

Did he found his perfection?

Or was it just artistic affection?

We will never know.