It started with a blank canvas

A faded tarp, hiding such a multitude of sins Actually a weathered hulk, with broken shattered limbs Forgotten craft beached up high, safe from the rising tides By wind and weather every day beset on every side Skies grow dark and thunder cracks, the canvas tears away Spreads its faded wings and flies, far out across the bay Exulting in another life, another chance to be A flag, a tent, a sail and more, just wanting to be free The wind abates, the canvas falls back onto solid ground And now it waits with bated breath just hoping to be found Perhaps a child, or fisherman will find it on the shore Some loving care, a wash, some paint - it will be blank no more