untitled.

Mon, 02/09/2015 - 20:34 -- bneary

 

White

Is a color

The hue of purity

That blankets a christened baby,

And mingles with Winter’s frost.

It is a silent, solitary moon.

It is the lone whisper in a dark night,

That dances on frozen skin

And enrobes a vulnerable eye.

The bleach of perfection

Is the color

White.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741