I looked at a painting,
but what did I see.
Maybe a soul,
captured but free.
Maybe words,
unspoken but strong.
Maybe it was life,
so short but so long.
Whatever it was,
it left me amazed.
Stunned into silence,
by the beauty it brings.
My mind frozen in time,
taking in ever curve and place.
Making a mockery of me,
and my ability to write.
It was so simple,
but so complex.
Every stroke of the brush,
leaving a bit of the tension behind it.
I saw the artist,
in his room.
Painting his life,
with a mini-Broom.
I saw the window,
that he sat upon.
I saw the color's,
in there tubes.
And it amazed me even more,
when I could see his child.
she came running into the room,
long golden curls flowing.
But that's not why I kept staring,
long after my group had moved on.
what made me keep looking,
was not the feeling or wonders.
But the fact that his daughter,
must have looked just like her mother.
cause in the painting I could see,
the tender love he left for me.
I left that room,
with a fatal sigh.
I left that day,
with one thing on my mind.
How many days,
have I looked to my family and not taken it in.
Maybe that's why,
my art is so dim . . . . |
Submission Name: Breath
