Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Paint and Ink

Tuesdays Slice of Life













Another night lost.
I slept not a wink.
But maybe it was a night won
for all I did in paint and ink.

A dozen works of art.
A sketch, a paint, a poem.
My thoughts refused to be silenced.
Into the deepest corners did they roam.

Until under the afternoon sun,
as my sweet child in her crib slept.
My war torn body could take no more.
Speckled in paint, tears an artist wept.

For once I did not dream,
as if all my thoughts were spent.
I cannot describe the glory of that emptiness.
Those moments of silence were heaven sent.


(Written 4.14.15)

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