White can be empty,
and lifeless, and still,
there’s no white in a rainbow,
or white on a hill

Yet white is a swan
glowing with beauty and grace
as it drifts across the lake
in a slow peaceful pace

White is a vortex
pulling me in,
white is a friend
through all thick and thin

White is a blanket
a blanket of snow,
engulfs a green field
so the flowers wont grow.

White is the sheet
that covers the dead
white’s what is left
when all’s done and said

White is the beard,
of a dieing old man;
white are the memories
that can’t be stored in a can.

White is a dove
pleading for peace
an endless pure prayer
that will never decrease

White is the noise
a monotonous hum
screaming, yelling, and weeping
to which we shall never succumb

White is a lie,
so close to the truth,
white can enrich,
or spoil a youth.

Assignment: Write a poem about a color (Freshman year)

Revised November 2005