RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Flowers casting their life out from a picture on the wall.
Their fragrance missed by all, because they are only a painting.
Birds flying through white clouds and clean air - all the while standing still, because they are only an oil painting.
Butterflies, rabbits, trees and leaves all brilliantly before us as if in flight - as if they are breathing and moving, but they're not.
Because they are only an oil painting hanging upon the wall.
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Comments about this poem (Picture Imperfect by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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