Painting by numbers the sky and one wonders where cyan should be, let me see, next to the pink it would go well I would think but Prussian blue blows its nose and tell me who if anyone knows the colour of wind?

Splash me a rainbow full of candy floss magic
and let me go,
let me explore all the sights, let me
smell the aroma of far flung away places and
taste the taste of the faces that look through
the stars into the wonder of nights.

Painting  a sleep in which the artist could keep all his dreams on the simmering heat,
where numbers like sheep follow on, follow on and follow on until the rainbow is gone.
and the paint becomes memory in the creases of age,
painting a dream on the page.