by A. J. Thompson

Created on: April 17, 2008

A blank canvas lay before me.
My hands trembled with anxiety.
I reached for a brush.
Taking my time, there was no rush.
I shall start with blue, for the sky,
and water, and butterflies.
As I paint the blue across my canvas,
I see its beauty.
I wash my brush, clean it well.
Then I choose,
Yellow for the daffodils,
and sun, and the mustard seed.
I smell the flowers, and feel the warmth of the sun.
I wash my brush again,
And choose carefully.
Only one color would do,
The finest of all.
Red for the apple, the serpent,
and the blood.
I take the canvas in my hands, and look upon it.
A tear rolls down my cheek.
It lands upon the canvas,
The colors begin to spread, swirl, and mix.
The colors blend together,
Purples, oranges, greens.
Plums, mangos, limes,
And yet stay true.

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