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I have written lot's of poems but this one is my favourite. |
The Memory Painter. On blank canvas with trembling hand he will begin He will paint what lies beneath, what lies within He will lift the tired brush his life long friend To paint a dying picture, the beginning of his end Unseeing eyes can't choose his shades for blind is he That's why he paints with love from memory With quiet strength he paints in every shade of pain Each shade a prayer to bring her back to him again His greatest work the finest colours are just for her Each tender stroke a silent wish for things that were A broken man, a lonely heart in every hue A quiet scream in every green, in every blue Each colour pure, no stroke he paints can ever taint her A parting gift, in the colours of love from the memory painter. |