ORANGE
A face, like sundown leaning on rusted steel—
boasting through storms he promised to end.
Lies? They cracked like paint in late May heat.
But some talkin’ copperheads still call the tariffs gold.
Some watched. We all waited... sunburned by belief.
Color My Mood
May 25, 2025
Nette Onclaud
Copyright © Lyric Man | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment