A picture paints a thousand words,
What if the meaning isn't what you heard.
You paint and paint and paint all day, just to have the meaning be stowed away.
You draw a frown or maybe a smile, the feelings flow and it takes a while.
The brush hits the canvas with the paint, but the meaning of it all is becoming faint.
A poem is written with just a few words, the meaning is clear as a voice you heard.
You write and write and write all day, because you can't find the words to express what to say.
You write a rhyme or maybe a line, to share your thoughts or maybe even mine.
The pen hits the paper along with the ink, as the words start to form and fall into the sink.
