White Peace Snow

Next assignment! I had to write a poem about the color that I took photos of last week (see last blog post.) My color was white, so here's my poem:


White.
Nothingness
empty
loneliness.
This is what others
see
in this color.
Cold
icy
harsh.
But where others see nothingness,
I see something.
Where others think empty
I think different.
What is empty that can always be filled;
white is a blank piece of paper waiting to be written on
white is a patch of fresh-fallen snow waiting to be trampled
by young booted feet.
What is lonely that can be content in its loneliness;
white is the snow falling outside
as I walk by myself
through the night
and I am content.
What is harsh can be transformed;
white is the snow that we run through
white is the snowballs that we throw
white is the snowman, clad in gloves and hats
sacrificed to his legacy.
What is cold is not necessarily bad;
white is the fog-breath that blows in puffs from
our red lips
white is the sky from which
snow falls softly,
peacefully.
White.
Filled with our shouts and laughter,
our foot-prints,
our snowmen who
won't live forever.
White
is
peace and
joy and
happiness.