And decorate the sky
The clouds are my paint
The mind is my brush
Shapes appear taking form
The winds come and smear them all
The winds of Fortune ,
The winds of Change
Sometimes the paint
Drips from the sky
My canvas is
Minds window pane
The paint drips on
To the wooden frame
Of Reality and Fact
I try to dig
To get some back
To finish my picture
Alas! It has gone
I draw the curtains
And withdraw from
The sad and Gory sight
Of a Ruined canvas of Life
From ‘Emoticons of a Rambling
Life ‘
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