Lady Gray

Lady Gray


In the fall once the last leaves have fallen and the cold rain starts, there is a sadness that permeates the days. A gray gloomy sadness that the old feel deep in their bones and the young feel as a yearning in the soul. These are the days where I exist. Ever wandering the countryside looking for a meaning, a moment, a love that never was. I am Lady Gray, the banshee, the old crone, the sound of wind howling in the night. I bring with me the loneliness of the ages, the lamentation of the lost souls, and the wails of the living who mourn them. I exist between the seasons when the splendor of fall has ended but the festive glow of winter has not begun. I exist between the worlds, walking along the hills and hollows in the night. I gather the forlorn and the desperate to my bosom. Promising solace but giving none for I am an empty shell doomed to forever wander lost among the bare trees and empty fields. Beware, the witch, the old crone they say not realizing that once I was just like them. I was full of life and yearning that brought me to naught but loneliness and pain. A pain that nothing could diminish, not drink nor food nor flights of fancy. An all-consuming pain that has left nothing but this empty shell of sadness.




Did you see this?

Eclectic Evelyn

Fabulous at 50 living and writing in Appalachia

Tell Me Something Good


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.