Artists

We are the poets, painters and dreamers We’re the wisp of smoke drifting above the ice covered rooftops on frozen winter nights When the world is quiet. we peer through life’s frost covered windows We pry open its emotional doors We walk in solitude down pathways unknown We seek the what if the why and the what for We do not prostitute our dreams for the promises of fortunes or fame Instead we give away our desires so others might find some comfort in the emotions our hearts bleed into the world In other words, we are quite penniless and alone