Without Color

dripping

——————

Grey dripping clouds

swallowed the sky

while tearing the sun into

3 ragged wafers…

Each of them

dripped golden lava…

 Which Slid and oozed

down solar rays….

Until the spiked tips

bent gently

down…

to kiss the

grass…

covering the land

with white fire…

Which cleansed

and danced…

Rolling up hill and down…

Twirling and spinning….

Until the whole world was a simple reflection

Of the sad smile….

Of its once powerful…

 and majestic…

master…

————–

David L Whitman 09/03/2013  enjoying the warmth

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10 thoughts on “Without Color

  1. Until the spiked tips
    bent gently
    down…
    to kiss the
    grass…
    covering the land
    with white fire…
    My favorite part of this poem. I can feel those rays and see them on the hills rolling up and down. Beautiful poem.

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