A poem of pain inflicted on an innocent soul
Osere Nyamora Vincent
The Red Paint
Rhythmically the strokes of his brush plastered red on white; the painting had meaning, to him a clandestine desire given life at the opportune time, to her a secret to keep and mum forever, the paint for a painting worth a lifetime change.
Sweet taste was the virgin waters of the oasis even though not yet ripe and in an instant the waters were dirtied as they streamed down the unchartered valleys, a trail of red dirt behind remained.
The dirty brush traversed all the edges of the surface, spitting red dirt on white, the stain a lifetime cleaning nightmare, a budge of sorrow to display and a reason for chide from many; the painting though!! Ready for display
Rain from her eyes as she picked the painting of her, drawn in red, his venomous encouraging words of "that was enjoyable"!!, broke the valley's trees of love, the hope for a better future, a mirage now and in her firmly grounded was fear of the painter's species, still in her hands though remains a painting courtesy of the red paint.