The Color of the Lens

September 26, 2015

Haphazardly beautiful

rocks Spewed onto the Ground

bright and Safe through eyes of Blue

Shade so sweet to eyes of brown

red eyes see it Dead, Rustic

eyes Move fast and catch a glimpse

but Slow eyes linger, Lost in it

eyes Should know Just where to Go

If they want To see

the Haphazard beauty

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.