If purple is the hardest color
For the eye to see
Then maybe all us purple-lovers
Are seers to the fairylands
Where dawn spirits sing
And poet bells ring
Harbingers of the night
To our awaiting ears.
Purple
More by OverTheRainbow
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there was an ice raid in the area
& it was the tensest last period class I've ever been in. Well, for me, at least,
and maybe only for me - when the announcement came on to secure
the school, no going outside, continue as normal,
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musings of an unrefined philosopher
I am a poet. I take the words and I turn them on their heads until the juice runs out. It is red and sweet, like strawberries. I sit cross-legged on lilypads, watching meaning watercolor itself onto the pond. I rust like clockwork in the rain.
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Comments
I love this poem, especially as a purple lover! :)
Thanks!
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