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Olana
September 20, 2010
Streaking warm colors fall onto brittle paper,
Veined hands create bright landscapes.
Scents of acrylics and burned leaves
Mark the beginning of Earth's final transition.
Frantic artist's passionate brushstrokes
Decorate corridors and foyers.
Arthritic hands succumb to frost,
While blank paper consumes all.
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This article has 3 comments.
Thesilentraven PLATINUM said...
on Oct. 2 2010 at 7:48 pm
Forget the last two words of my comment.
Thesilentraven PLATINUM said...
on Oct. 2 2010 at 7:47 pm
The words in this poem are wonderfully put together, and this is beautifully written. I love how you describe the seasons in such a creative way. Each line was a treasure to me. Well done, my dear, well done! You word
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