Picture perfect world your conception flows on the canvas the old fence post and snow covered barb Wire touches where I walked in youth the ruts in the road the car that made them contained my family That doesn’t exist anymore but for a brief moment your brush and paint made them live again what a Thrill the purr of the engine the car heater the sounds of dad and mom and sister lingers on the cold icy Wind you created with soul and emotion I saw dad rolling a cigarette from a bag of bullduarm my Mother has on a silk head scarf my sister is drawing in the frost on the window down and out of this Winter scene our trip would take us to dad’s mom’s house what wonderful memories come to mind on Those special holidays back then it seemed it always snowed before Thanksgiving and remember how The snow would be just a mess of brown slush melting in the street they say slow down and smell the Roses that’s good advice but stop and stand still in the room freeze the moment observe it in the Minutest detail one day you will ache with longing if only you could step across time’s barrier touch Grandmother’s lovely hand hear that one of a kind voice as a five year old she spun a web of adventure All the places we were going to visit her wheel chair didn’t figure in she was the one who in the Depression took a Walton’s truck look alike and loaded up nine children and headed to the Indian Nation in Oklahoma that was a good trip from central Illinois I can see her participating in the shawl Dance what a beautiful sight so I never doubted about visiting all those places and we did she spoke and We left the widow she always set by in the kitchen we traveled on golden wings of memory you know I Believe they were better trips than if we had gone for real her braided hair was still black as coal Although there were strands of white snow laced through and it was a wonder how her skin was so Brown in winter and it wasn’t from setting in the sun the previous summer what wonder lies in dreams You see feel and hear them so well just like a painter takes the real pulls it from the air and instills it on Cloth canvas they take the true spirit from rivers make it accost the gentle parts of our natures they Invigorate the night sky by itself at times it is to distant the painter gives it a close friendliness a soothe Pervades they in wrap you in the enthralling parts the part of darkness is allowed to seep into the mind In such a personnel way you alone possess the charm and glow of night’s magical array thank you dear Artist for setting free the very real that is so elusive but you bring it into crystal clear view