The Painting

A poem for the March Poet's fetish contest

The Painting

Blue canvas waits to be painted
Waits for my brush to stroke
But my mind is a fuzzy abstraction
And the paint won’t move as I want
I just keep painting over it
Keeping the canvas blue
The puzzle pieces just won’t fall
At least not to the right place
And as my blue canvas waits to be painted
He flashes before my face
Lost love, found love
But no painting for me today
The empty blue canvas
Will just have to wait

Elizabeth S. Tyree