She searched the shelves of heat and discovered hiding there her
Poetic palette, all her colors, true and fair. She opened the cupboard
Where the canvas frames lay and on an easel began to paint the shades of her heart’s bouquet. The pastel freely flowed into a prismatic reflection of her late memory of life’s inconstant perfection. In the painting of her poems, her memories vividly convey all the joys and sorrows she came to know along her way. While she painted she closed her eyes and departed to a new world. Now she lay safe and sound forever loved never forgotten as what she was know by: “The Artist”
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
She searched the shelves of heat and discovered hiding there her
Poetic palette, all her colors, true and fair. She opened the cupboard
Where the canvas frames lay and on an easel began to paint the shades of her heart’s bouquet. The pastel freely flowed into a prismatic reflection of her late memory of life’s inconstant perfection. In the painting of her poems, her memories vividly convey all the joys and sorrows she came to know along her way. While she painted she closed her eyes and departed to a new world. Now she lay safe and sound forever loved never forgotten as what she was know by: “The Artist”
