I'm grey
like an owl perched 
on a water-worn post
of a fence 
separating one nothing plot from another.

I'm silver
like jewellery economical
comely for a spell
until tarnished by time.
Our chemical interaction
has changed me.

I'm ashes
like sunbeams avoided 
like the many transgressions 
shouldered 
and absorbed. 
Burned down to the quick.
Just a heap, a shifting pile 
lifted by the wind. 

I'm lead
ductile
Twisting and turning to suit you 
Thinner and thinner I am wrought 
Yet oddly - 
heavy around your neck.

I always stay too long
the host is trying to remain polite
but we've run out of conversation
and the potion has worn off. 
The spectators are weary 
the playlist is repeating and
no one wants that.

The dithering ends
When the captions are empty
When the street narrows to one way 
and the thousandth sigh has been expressed.