White

I once lived in a world that was white.

It shone, blindingly so.

In its cold appearance, diamond flecks would flicker

And for those moments, it was wondrous.

It was pure, pure magic -

Icy confetti sprinkled by ice sprites

Chipped from the ice kingdom and lifted into the air

Mischievously, gamely,

To immerse me in nature's snow globe.

*

Beauty, though, has bite,

Especially when it's white.

It didn't want to be tamed

And would harden and slip away from you,

And even while it touched and teased you

In your brush with it,

Its steel would penetrate your bones.

Cold.

Deep, deep cold.

You were a toy to its extreme,

Anaesthetised to an extent not known,

Your body ringing, unable to be heard

Underneath the numbness.

But as you urgently reached for the red

Of crisp burning crackles

To colour yourself back to vibrant

From the blank immobilising canvas left by white's caress,

White screeched inside you,

A battle cry against the rallied heat,

Called upon to ensure white fire's retreat,

And the agony of white's loss reverberated,

As it scraped its claws through your core

Before shrinking to vapour.

Its brutality is frightening -

Its penetration is without mercy.

Now, my life is green and grey,

Softer, lusher hues

With white limited to the very fringes of winter.

But sometimes, in this verdancy

I dream of white

And I would relish its bite.