Paint
Paint
The wall was full of small holes,
and imperfections.
There were gouges,
here and there.
the surface, only an echo...,
of its original beauty.
The "color" white.
Not paper, but pure;
like a winter flower.
Restoring yesterday,
a privilege!
Sometimes full of memories
past... and gone.
Yet the effort,
the work,
the labor,
creating new ones for the now,
to keep for tomorrow...
and all our future yesterdays.
A brush,
a bucket,
and the smallest drop,
of truest faith.
The final result...
a miracle!
Time restored,
and renewed.
A visual blessing,
to the eye,
and a spiritual lifting
of the heart.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.