The light from outside has withered.
My mind has gone home with the school children.
Only my imagination remains, crafting a newborn image.
One the world has yet to see.
I stand before my canvas with pride.
My paintbrush held victoriously above my head.
Stained to my hands is determination.
all of the Yellows.
My body aches from self exhaustion.
Resiliently my eyes pace back and forth.
Searching for error.
I step back, feeling my feet for the first time.
My complexion lacks life.
All that i have had is now in front of me.
My lungs catch the air around me.
Poisoned with pottery dust and turpentine.
The clock ticks and the bulbs hum.
http://www.kingsford.org/khsweb/0910news/asa_march/index.htm
No comments:
Post a Comment