White Poem by Bill Cantrell

White is the mother of all colors
Her soul is brightness of light
Without her, all colors haven't a name
In the void of the dark, they all look the same

Her beauty is matchless, just look her in the eye
She's a siren calling from her throne, high in the sky
Yet, it's rude to stare at such royally too long
Your vision she will snatch, and she will not give it back

White, my favorite color,
just ask the iris of my eye
Without the sea of milk she drinks from,
all other colors would be a lie