An Orb of Gold
I closed tight my eyes and fell sound asleep,
and in my dream I became a grand artist;
who was painting the sky, the sky . . .
I picked up a brush of the purest blue,
and swirled a slash of azure across the canvas:
Hesitating for a moment . . .
I dipped my brush into rosy pink and splattered it.
Now, holding a brush of honey gold, I waited, waited,
gazing and pondering for quite awhile;
then, I painted an orb of gold . . .
_______________________
February 24, 2019
Poetry/Verse/An Orb of Gold
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1117-851-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into Standard Contest #565
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
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