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.
Copyright © Nicholas Rush | Year Posted 2015
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