Some days you feel good
Some of em are bad
At some point
There'll be two days
The best and worst
You ever had
Maybe they have
Been and gone
Perhaps they lie round the bend
Or you had one but not the other
No signs portend
But don't mull on it
It's not chapter and verse
Just compose a new mantra
Things can always get worse.

Still waters run deep
But sometimes a puddle's
Just a puddle

On my walls hang two pieces of art;
large canvases boldly splashed
with colour, stroke upon stroke formed vivid arcs.

I wish I had kept my father's paintbrushes,
they were tools of masterpieces.
From them, my strokes could have made faces flush
and inspired songs and poetry; love?

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However, upon reflection, it might be a blessing to create with unique expression and freedom.

Even though
The ground is covered in snow
I know if you dig a little deeper
You'll find it to be warm