The Brushes Poem by Cynthia Cename

Outsail your colors
More paint and glamour;
Beset the celtics
Become the painter,
Bright and season here.

Delight your shelter,
Moved out from hinder;
Deal frows and lighter,
Man and remember.

Dear shall I fathom,
Kin and reception
Plight and the dignity,
Call that the action.

Clean and impel,
Such recommend
Tall to diverse,
Ranch and depend.

Lots to intern,
Well, also ture
Shine on every plown
But really grace.

Breathe of the scorn
Was piece of roar
Tick on the bells
Infer to lair.

And mights were flat
Held through me nigh
Ought for the Scott
Forms and pin sigh.