With Brush In Hand She Makes Her Stand
Giving Us Understanding In Dance
Her Rhythmic Life, Her I Glance
In Swirls Of Color Not Placed By Chance
Neurons Transfer On To Canvas
Beating In My Heart Is Hers
As My Eyes Follow Her Stroke
My Soul Fills, Every Emotion Woke
Showing Her Pain Erasing Mine
A Talent Not Taught But Born
Music Felt For Our Sight
Her In Dance, A Life In Flight
Howie Joe...07/18/2016.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thought there had to be a good reasoning in there. Still the poem was not a waste of time. Read mine - Despair - Adeline