Paintbrush of Turbulence

I confess it’s better everyday. Since you have swung your heart my way. Rock bottom seemed to have no floor. Then dove into the bleak abyss. Blinded till I drowned amidst. Light leading to the lamp-post at your door. Step inside your space unknown. Painting the room, coloring stone. Then getting better became a chore. As spanners wedge inside the works. When the cunning serpent lurks. Zealous murals bit by dull rain; pour. From dust our empty canvas grew. Garnished the feel of love once drew. Just promise me it’s getting better. From prisms beaming to ash again. Fixing pale became a trend. The swings made me a surly debtor. Still I know each time we fix a letter. We adjust lifes tint a little better. All the time.