An Outsider In Tyrants Town (Iii) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

We will never say good-bye
To our self even when we sleep
Our dreams are fresh and new
With clearance and in deep

The water waves we splash
Until our thoughts are quiet
We question not imagination
Nor color our canvas at night

Each window is countryside
To hills that are all in bloom
Without rimless waves flight
Our world is gray and gloom

The artist is ferment with brushes
None quiet his blossoms down
To aims and directions he ruses
He's an outsider in tyrants town