Painting Pictures Poem by Aisha Sherazi

I used to paint,
Pretty pictures of us,
I painted,
What we looked like,
In my dreams I did trust.

We’re sitting together,
Watching the sunset,
My head is on your shoulder,
In your hand my hand is set.

We’re riding on horseback,
The wind is in our hair,
We’re smiling and laughing,
We are without a care.

We’re watching a movie,
Popcorn on our knees,
We can only see each other,
Isn’t this a tease?

We’re dining together,
Out in the open air,
In the middle of a forest,
We are without a care.

We’re talking to each other,
Making eye contact,
We engage each other,
Conversation is intact.

But now that we are here,
In this strange place,
The pictures look different,
I no longer see your face.

The pictures have faded,
And something else is here,
The pictures are hazy,
No they are not clear.

The sunset is tainted,
By rainy skies each day,
The horses are out of control,
It’s not fun to ride this way.

The movie is boring,
It doesn’t mean a thing,
The food has gone cold,
While we eat, no birds sing.

We don’t listen to each other,
Or look at each other now,
We’re always in a hurry,
A frown is on our brows.

What happened to the pictures,
That I painted long ago?
I really miss those pictures,
I really want to know.

Will they ever come back?
Or have they faded,
Forever more?
Do they simply haunt us?
And tell us what’s in store?

That those pretty pictures,
Faded oh so fast,
They were only made of dreams,
And were never meant to last.