Monday, June 27, 2011

Painting :)

The brush sways
Across a page
This is what I live for.
The easel set
The paint still wet
In greys like iron ore.
I gaze at
My canvas that
Seems to be
Gazing back at me.
I touch the art
And it leaves arcs
Of paint streaming down my fingers.
I take my hands
Move them this way and that
And throw the paint back down
With a loud
Splat.

After its dried
And hung up on my wall
I stare at it with pride.
I gave it my all.


Notice:
Just in case anyone was wondering the sudden change in mood in my poetry, this was just a little change, no big deal :)

<Copyright Faith C. 2011>

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