The painter's brush
drifts over his
self-portrait
In the space of time
he is uplifted
then brought back down again
What an ongoing cycle
He thinks of his life
and he wants it to be different
To paint a different portrait
Is all he asks
In his humble seat
It cannot take much
longer than this
to tell the time
on those sturdy hands
upon the clock
ticking away the days
away his manner
away his spirit
Will there be much left
to share with another?
A little fickle of the paint brush
He lets no paint upon its bristles...
drifts over his
self-portrait
In the space of time
he is uplifted
then brought back down again
What an ongoing cycle
He thinks of his life
and he wants it to be different
To paint a different portrait
Is all he asks
In his humble seat
It cannot take much
longer than this
to tell the time
on those sturdy hands
upon the clock
ticking away the days
away his manner
away his spirit
Will there be much left
to share with another?
A little fickle of the paint brush
He lets no paint upon its bristles...
No comments:
Post a Comment