The painter

In another time,
She’d be a painter,
Probably a tad bit saner,
Just as the colors fly.

‘Tis time to be alive,
To be an artist with a poetic mind,
She’d be famous or poor,
But will remain forever without fear.

The test is to see,
As far, past where the mind can reach,
Light flying past the tips,
Of her finger, making things finer.

She’d be a maiden still,
Or a man a little covert,
For life is different,
But she shall prevail with her will.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: