Poetry?

I wrote some words just now that might be interpreted as a poem of some sort (maybe?). Here it is:

The sky is blue-gray watercolor clouds;
the grass in the lot across the street from my window is dressed in its winter brown camouflage…
people drift by on the sidewalks wearing too much clothing on their ways to the post office and the market.
With dry lips and aching head, I watch the scene, dreaming of brighter days.

So...kind of cliche-y and uninteresting, but it came to me in a minute of staring out of my office window and being uninspired by the typical Central PA winter drab out there (all bare trees and muddy colors). It's Friday and I'm tired and dehydrated (probably shouldn't be drinking this coffee to wake up).

Boss is away, so I think I'll time-thief a little and try to work on a short story. Maybe something to share later? (But probably not). Blah.