i love the way
the water rushes
its sound fills me with delight
(the painter strokes with brushes
shrouding the sun, murdering the light)
i love the way
the trees stretch high to the sky
their company makes me happy
(their bark is darker, i cannot deny
the colors mixed together -- oh, how crappy)
i love the way
the mountains are so big
but they say so little
(the painter bristles and downs a swig
with curling digits that quake, shake and are brittle)
i love the way
the house is so close
to the rushing waves, it's so neat
(upon the easel, the painter sleeps, and most
of their nightmares are a common treat)
YOU ARE READING
sprinkle in the woods (poetry #6)
Poetry"and it rains and rains and rains and rains for five more years and it's cloudy for ten once they leave, i'll be sunkissed i'll be the rock in the light illuminated simply by your presence my fallen star, you've finally met me and it's so lovely lov...
