"The Painter" by Leah

June 12, 2010
Wind blows, wrapping me in its icy blanket
the cold bites my toes
and paints my cheeks a rosy pink

My breath
no longer cloaked in invisibility
twirls in its new white tint

My Lips
Are dipped
in a icy blue dye

And the world
is air brushed
.white.

*Spring*

The Painter arrives on the gurgling stream
on a lily pad
on the tippy-top of a flower

and as he passes

ice melts
flowers grow
bees buzz
butterflies float on their delicate wings

everything is painted
grasses become green
flowers turn fuchsia
and
blue jays replace snowy owls
who fly on silent wings, painting the sky
with their feather brushes
.blue.


*Summer*

Blinding Light
awakens the world
as the sun's rays burn the air
to hot to bear

Experienced brush strokes
paint our skin a darker shade
as our newly tanned feet rush to meet the waves

the water washes up to the shore
showing off its new shade of sapphire
sparkling like diamonds
as the sun shines gold flecks across the waves

Our Skin, once so perfectly tan
now burns
the sun luring us to stay under its heat
paints our skin
.red.
*Fall*

Finally the burning leaves our skin
and instead the leaves are lit
flaming like fire.

The Painter skillfully colors the leaves
like the feathers of a golden phoenix
that captures the essence of their flames.

As the feathers of the phoenix
begin to shed
and fly away
the cold creeps back

And soon
like no time has past
skates replace boats
flakes replace drops
and winter begins
.again.





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