Letter no. 21: Shades of Blue
Once in my highschool life, I’d been involved in our schoolpaper organization as an editor in chief. From there I had learned that the toughest part of being a head is using the five senses to win, and that decisions are the most crucial term ever invented. To the winners and to the not-so-fortunates of the recently concluded National Press Conference, this poem is for you.
It’s the mixed feeling of being wild and free,
like the gloomy dove up on the tree,
chasing chances, craving for liberty
refraining bullets of a shot so deadly.
It’s the essence of timid peace and harmony
that has once been a dream of this country,
a nightmare turned legacy
that was molded in our hearts so perfectly.
It’s the sky that promised a bounty forever,
the emblem of hope from the dove’s fallen feather,
the reason for life while we’re still together,
a vow worth saying, it’s now or never.
It’s the shade of our flag’s top pallete,
that’s more than the age of Shakespeare’s sonet
It’s the unattended goodbyes after we second met,
and the grieving soul after each morbid death.