I'll paint you a sunflower,
in the middle of the day.
An old, run down cathedral,
lovers shrouded in hay.
I'll use broken paint-strokes,
as defective as me,
and I'll paint the skies,
and whatever I see.
YOU ARE READING
yours very truly, vincent
Poetry"there may be a great fire in our hearts, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke." - vincent van gogh. my entry for _theskyisthelimit_ 's 100 poems challenge. (c) mockingjayde 2013
