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Beautiful soft
White limb heavy
Trees bow low
And yield to fate.
Light becomes
Black becomes cold
Letter of the day for this poem is..
P
perfect
powerless
purgatory
purge
penetrating
profound
Pandora's box.. simplicity reigns..
ty for the write!
Du~
At least, I am assuming it is your first poem here. Is that supposed to be a power grid? The section with becomes is a bit awkward because of the repeat of that word. And, perhaps this could have been a bit longer and the more powerful thereby. Keep up the good work!