Posted in Poem

Details

She was painting a picture,
Water blue, the sky lit white
Shore had yellow, mustard, a bit of brown
But how did the sea in her picture make that sound?
Bikini and sunglasses, readers and surfers
But why could he not un-see that  sundress fluttering and listen to that one girl thinking?
The bushes were green; flowers dotted pink, yellow and red
But why it was the wilted ones who talked beyond words?
The memories were clear, the picture being painted with a hint of quagmire
But why were the details from that one dialogue reading between the forbidden lines?

Author:

I don't create content. I pour my soul.

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 )

Connecting to %s