The White Wall Poem by austin ohc
The White Wall
No scars the white wall bore.
Too flatly white, flawless it seemed.
Drawn to it, he approached closer.
Entranced but jealous, filled with evil,
Wanting to ruin its pureness,
He stretched his unclean hands.
Soon stained and smeared with the dirt
the wall appeared dark, no more white
but spotted. The cursed wall turned black.
Why painted white in the beginning?
The color white, vulnerable to deception, was a disguised blessing.
The painter gifted the wall with the white, knowing its future.
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4/25/2024 11:35:49 PM # 1.0.0.1119
It's wonderful poem, , , elegant write, , , Great thought! ! ! Top marks 10+++