THE COLOR OF….
It is not rose,
much more like snow
that coats each velvet petal,
or dims an apple’s blush,
the pear’s suggestive charm.
Nor is it fire,
for each hypnotic flame
dispels the notion once contained,
no, more like glass, it is,
transparent, hard,
and always set to crack.
It is not grass or stone.
No, more like ice,
much more,
an army of stalagmites rising from the depths,
unyielding and unbound,
crystalline and honed:
the frigid glow of outrage.
©2017 All Rights Reserved
Barbara Froman 
Reblogged this on nbsmithblog…random digressions and musings and commented:
From Barb, a poem of outrage about shameful events happening right now.
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Thank you, Nan. ❤
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Also outraged! Little babies left to cry in fear with no one to comfort them…heartbreaking!
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Yes. There are monsters in the WH and Congress.
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