Comments Inbox
| |
About This Poem
Whiteout
On the top of a hill
We traced our journey here,
Tracks through a virgin snow
Ribboned away and disappeared.
On the top of a cloud
The sun softly rolled
Then fell into cobalt blue.
Hills of white seemed to race away
Like the ripples on a pond.
We traced our names in the snow
And continued across the meadow.
The journey here we shared,
Tracks of deer and fox
Reminded us we were guests.
Through a virgin innocence,
Snow blanketed our senses
With a deafening quiet.
Soldier lines of birches
Drew long thin shadows
Like soft grey ribbons
On the white damask landscape.
Away from the jagged edge of reality,
We escaped to this wonderful peace
And disappeared...
For Anthony's whiteness contest
Inspired by Debbie G's "etcetera form"
|
|
|