Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2011
Rafael was deaf.
Those colors were only
Depth shadows
He heard
When his brushes
Sang quietly
Every morning.

Caravaggio was mute.
And thus he
Could not
Sing along
With Rafael's brushes
On those
Oily mornings.

Funny how their paintings sing to us.
Written by
Timothy Mooney
579
   Andrea D Martin
Please log in to view and add comments on poems