My love she is a seraphim immaculate, unblemished, pure - visions of her alabaster skin nourish like mother's milk. A lamb in white wolf's clothing, I howl at her pearly gates for just one lightning glimpse of that porcelain profile, that champagne hair of sheerest silk, that frosted ivory smile.... But she bids me not enter. Do I charge these nacre gates Crashing down her chalked pillars - a White Knight astride his snowy steed claiming his gleaming trophy? Or remain forever frozen and forlorn transparent, cowardly, defeated Brandishing my flag of Surrender?
P.J. Murphy (c) P.J. Murphy 2005 Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'White'
