Yellow snow not white that stained my gown,
I can taste each tear that's filled with love.
The plain is flat, the tree's are tall and fit as if,
A glove upon my hand, the feeling is.
Each night I dream in song and note - 110 mhz,
It moves a body so the snow is white about the bush.
But I loved the sea to much the ocean more,
As the coffee that you drink instead of tea with cream.
But life for me like you was all to much, the oven
Opened up and I gave in to follow up, it wasn't green.
Each sphere each planet has a song to sing, I know
There is,
I can here them come, underfoot the snow is dirty
White, the ground is full of people that I meet instead of you.
Blood clots, there's no need for hope that blood
Will reach my brain.
Nurses enter with a guest and I don't know there name's,
Of the seasons for.
Rubber shoes once mine sit by the door and it grows warm,
Snow once white, now yellow stains my gown.
Copyright © James McLain | Year Posted 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
James, for once you used green in a poem having the topic green. ha ha. i like the poem, though, as often happens, i don't understand it well. i hope it does not mean you are having urinary tract problems! are you? i admit i leak a bit o' yellow from time to time, but i don't wear much white, where it can be seen (the 'white' OR the 'yellow') . i like 110 mhz. i like these words: the ground is full of people that I meet instead of you. bri :)