La Neige

I am blinded by the bright whiteness of the stars of stellar class A. Your purity and innocence, the opposite of black. My esteem for you soars way higher than the peak of Mauna Kea brushing the milky, nurturing moon. A white rose veiled in a flag of surrender. The angel appears with peaceful intent, standing in your shadow like an alabaster ghost. The lily white no 1 dress code for this white knuckle ride leaves me whitewashed holding white feathers. Heading for the final evolutionary white dwarf state the sound of the white noise crashes all around. Knowing healing white magic is more than a white elephant.