The immigrant


I’ve been wrapped in a sheet of white,

Since the day I arrived.


So eerie white.

It gathers less peace and more of a sheen of sadness.

A river of madness,

That carries me like a flash flood.

Drops me from colourful skies, to a land of white sludge.

Dripping with a lack of colour,

The Overrated Dollar.
Yet, somewhere in this pell mell,

I have come to know the smell,

Steak and bacon and Maple syrup,

Away from Europe.

There’s a pale place of it’s own,

Right next to the Whispering pinecone.

From the window next to me,

This towns people holler,

”Hey, Colour!”,

And I drag myself out of bed,

Work until dead,

For a Loonie and another Dollar.

View original post

Categories: Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s