I am a painting,
Captured on a canvas,
Caught in a still life,
And Standing out bold,
With feminine tones and shimmering.
Surrounded with shadows,
Or, in colors of life,
Known, and mystifying.
My price would be to know me,
And the artist would have been you.
As you, the artist only knows,
Where to stroke the brush,
Gently with love,
And fill it with colors of my soul,
With no superfluous strokes,
To let me be free;
And to make the painting complete.
2 comments:
It's hard to personify a painting and pen down an autobiographical poem. Only you can manage it. Way to go Mansee!
A beautiful poem, as usual, though more than anything I'm dying to know who is the painter being referred to in this one ;)
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