White Car
I saw him glare at me.
What does it mean?
When he stares at me…
my son says: “White car, white car.”
Am I supposed to be looking for that white car?
Who knows maybe it’s his favorite color.
I suppose maybe that’s all it is.
But something inside me
just can’t help
but feel there’s something more…
Poetic Works of Petra Fafina Marina Patrice
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Author:
Fína Elara 🌙 Petra Patrice (
Offline) - Published: September 23rd, 2025 10:05
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments3
A thought provoking poem that leaves the reader questioning what else white could mean.
I'm thinking the devil incarnate.
Why do sensible people pop into their cars and become ''Rambo.''
Petra, this caught me hard…the plainness of “White car, white car.” folds into unease, and it lingers like a signal. Ordinary becomes mysterious, tender becomes fearful, and I’m left holding my breath right beside you. Stunning work. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️
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