The sky is an icy grey in winter. I love the look it has, like a feather blanket about to be ripped open over the earth. It’s almost the same way when it’s about to rain, only more violent looking. The eerie way the grey sky outlines the trees as if destruction is on the way. Also, the way a steel pole looks. Unbreakable and menacing, one strong stork and it can crush bone.

Strangely, this is the way I feel about his eyes: grey, cold, and menacing. Oh, but how I love them. There’s a light in those grey eyes that make me not afraid. I remember that first day I saw him at the train station. His grey eyes pierced into mine and I was nervous, even scared. But now, there’s understanding.

Every emotion shows through those grey eyes. His anger, fierce like a grey alpha wolf that makes me back up in fear. When he thinks of something cunning his eyes turn to slits and begin to give off a kind of glow. Not a happy glow, but more of an ‘I’ve-got-you-this-time’ glow. Actually, they never give off a happy glow. I don’t even know if there was a time I ever saw him really, truly happy. I can always tell when he’s tired, zoned out, or lying. His eyes always give him away. The grey just speaks to me in a way no other color has in my life. But the worst emotion I’ve ever seen in his eyes was sadness. What’s even worse, as much as they never give off a happy glow, they always give off a sad grey vibe. As if he’ll never be happy. I never knew why his grey eyes were the way they were, so I scrutinized them. Now I know.

Color essay for Advanced Composition.


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