Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2010
The white looked red,
I thought to myself.
The white looks red,
I said.
What is that? A cat?
No, a skunk,
though I smell absolutely nothing.
Such beautiful markings,
I thought.
Such beautiful fur,
I'd say.
I wonder if the white really was stained red.
Or if it was just something in my head.
Written by
Irene S
580
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems