Akin to seven colors
I was the white crayon
They filled their silhouette
Splendid and bright
Alas! My head turned broad
Leaving a blank canvas drawn
Staying among motley wax
My endeavors were hidden,
Unseen, unborn
Proceeding the book of life
Came a day in the halfway
When eyes stuck on the black page
Finger lingering through all
From the box of crayons,
I was picked!
Brilliant poem how cleverly written my dear friend and what a smashing ending...that's what poetry is about conveying a message with that awesome subtley that you portrayed in this poem. I hope many read this and I love the poet note it's wise words :)
Hi Jaya, A very poignant poem; a little philosophical.100+++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Jaya, this is a great poem. It is a reminder of how we should acknowledge those who are important. Too often, however, I suspect the person in question has gone and the opportunity evaporates. Again, a wonderful poem.
thanks poet