You might know me from
My battlefield erasure,
Or from my simple presence
On nearly every place
I'm everywhere, going nowhere,
In every field and yard.
I'm the view out the window
When one wants to look.
I'm the green paint on the ground
But not the unique color.
I'm the bittersweet scent released
From the rumbling summer blade.
You might not know me the most.
You might not take notice,
But I am the green paint
Masking a blank canvas.
Yes, those flowers have a great purple.
Those ones have red, and a nice yellow.
Those ones smell sweet when your corpses
Lie still in piles in the street.
You adorn your hair, your houses,
With the flimsy hues of the flower.
And tread your feet upon the grass.
YOU ARE READING
Not From Chicago.
PoesiaThis is a collection of my best poetry in my opinion! I hope you enjoy, whoever may paint their eyes over the letters and words I've arranged! PS-This book includes poems from "A World In Words" by yours truly. Go check out the other book, if you li...
