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The Truth

Snow storms down,
Gulls flap around,
Homes tinted white.
Tall pillars of strength loom out of
the white.
As gulls flip flap around.

Teacher doth complain
The snow shall not yet wain,
She does not controll.
She says expand your mind,
But in her I can find
No artistic soul.

Snow and sleep
No wont nor weep
By a warm radiators girth.

The white stops and fades,
As the sun shines on the day
Beauty for a second
Disappears.
Leaving another kind of beauty in its stead.
Tom Gibo
Thursday, June 22, 2006
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