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