PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I’ve heard snow to be white and pure

Without a mark to taint its beauty.

But now I look at around, unsure.

What I see is not white

Is not pure.

Maybe once, it have might.

But what I see

Is a barren field of powdered dark

With not a tree

Allowed to grow

As the frost kills the seeds below.

I wonder what could have done this

But I know the answer.

The pollution could not miss

The lazy world

That did nothing

To protect that which pearled.

And now it is gone

Lost forever,

That which stretches on and on

Contaminated by the effluence

That none recognize as a strong influence.

I cannot see my reflection in the shadowed ice

And I feel alone.

Then, far in the distance pallid and nice,

A patch of nothing,

A patch of opportunity.

And, to be honest, it makes me want to sing

Because I know

Someday it can be fixed.

And one day we will sew

And when we reap

Life again will peep.