PrintSeptember 4, 2007
Gray Miller (a poem)
Arthur Miller was gray.
There’s no better way
To describe this bitter
Low ball hitter
Who had so little to say.
Words brought him fame.
Fawners bowed at his name,
But his writings were dull
Attempts to cull
Grime from hollow depths. We have to blame
“Attention must be paid”
On some angst mislaid
By a clouded mind
Which couldn’t find
Joy in the shallow scribblings he made.
Gold is the color of each dawning day.
Gloom and resentment are always gray.
Mimi Evans Winship
