My Son's poem..
Black is a camp out under the trees
When all you can feel is the gentle night breeze.
Black is depression, a spider, a crow
Black is the tree scraping on the window
Black is a panther, Black is a cat
and also the sound of wings on a bat.
Black is a rainstorm, and a dirty worm.
The sound of black is woosh, woosh, woosh,
as the wind tries to move the trees with a sudden push
Black is a mountain after fire, and all the things we don't desire.
Black is a fright, and a day with no delight.
Black is a night without a moon, and waiting for something that won't come soon
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