Cold Vibes
Art is a virtue
Still life too realistic
I see the cold insinuations
Yet it too builds a wall
With good intentions
I push the brush
And dip into lush hues
Painting to my hearts consent
Then words hush
I sit in solitude as well
And think
Critiques are in my head
It's LINE I define
I break it up
I continue to paint
Changing definition instead
I see space an element
It grabs me
I embrace my brush again
It overwhelms me
Painting hues
I see the virtue
It is my dream
Though it may seem
The artists hands
Predominant
The ideal
See the painting
Each stroke made it real
And the desire
It then became
Evident.
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