I’ll spend the day engrossed in painting
Incredible things that are to come
It’s a future I’m creating
What do the swirls of paint become?
The flick of a paintbrush makes your smile
And the angle of colour makes views for a mile
And the streets below may be filled with strangers
But there’s none more stranger than the one I know
A stranger who’s aware of all the dangers
Who all too soon met her plateau
The swish of colour forgets one part
A journey’s required if I am to embark
On this probaby too ambitious new start
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An enrapturing set of words, Lea. Are you referring to the start of a new relationship with somebody? Well, even if I've missed the poem's point, I still love it. The imagery, the wording, the rhyme, fantastic. And of course allusions to paintiings in poems really work for me as poetry is painting in words. Yours certainly is. Warm regards from your latest fan, Gina. Oh yeah, carry my 10.