Painted Sky
When I looked outside my window
There was a man painting snow
I asked him "Are you friend or foe?"
And he laughed and ran away
In his hand he had a paintbrush
In the other, a painted pail
Running up onto an invisible rail
He leapt up to the sky, hand outstretched high.
I saw his brush strokes trailing black
I cried, "Stop! Don't do that!
I don't want today to end
I have chores and things to mend"
Once more his laughter came
And he drew out a gnarly cane
Dipping the end into the pail
And left silver stars in a trail
Then he used his brush again
Curving a line to meet its end
Forming a moon that was gleaming
I am certain she was beaming
Then the man ran once more
And through the black he tore
Leaving a silver stream of light behind
As the words, make a wish, echoed through my mind
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