My little boy likes to play with paint
Fingers coated with liquid colors
He told me he wants to share the pain
Holding the brush, dipping it to watercolor
Your eyes always tell the truth
The burning passion, thawed away youth
The papers, bleed in blueberry hue
A scene where riptides crash a lonely man's shoes
In each stroke of a brush,
Is like a kiss of a wind's hush
My little boy, cherished her
He thought she was a porcelain paper
YOU ARE READING
The Sea, The Wind , The Dawn, and The Watercolor Painter
Poesíahello! as I close the Flowers blooming in my mind, this book serves as how my love blooms into words. it tackles anxiety, feeling of love and at the same time pain from being apart by someone you love. hopefully you enjoy my thoughts on how to expre...
