Beauty! What’s your shape,
your height, size or colour?
I don’t see beauty in white,
in a sky-bound tower
or an idly swimming hippo.
White reminds me death;
I see people coming to see me
in a dead white winter day,
wearing pale dead white.
Some say light comes with day,
and light is white, so white is beauty.
But lovers love not light or white;
they love moon yet not noon.
I hear when night rains black
lovers say they get their clothes
I looked at a girl with full of love
in my eyes, but she tossed her head
and raised her nostrils with nausea.
I felt I was a cow dung at her feet.
And then I wrote a three-word letter,
“I like you,”
rolled it and boldly dropped it
when my girl came behind,
and a letter soon flew onto my hands,
dark brown you may be,
but I love you.”
Copyright © July 19, 2019, Newton Ranaweera
Image source: Pixabay