The slick globs of paint glisten in the fading light.
Rainbow teardrops on the thin board.
Disturbed by my brush, the artist's dewdropp clings
Then bleeds across the canvas,
Softly sighing, laments the journey.
Swift strokes, flicks, dabs, curving lines.
Does the brush live the dream, or the dream live the brush?
A thousand images my hands seek to release,