Pinktober Glass Paints
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My memory flashes back on my most horrific nightmare…
Again, I find myself in rivet of this excruciating pain
With emaciated body, I totter to my wheelchair
Holding my paintbrushes and glass paints
Dogged enough to finish the portraits of my agonizing tale.
It’s so hard to clear up my hazy mind
Like smoked glasses- a canvas which I need to dust…
As my tears seek its way to dry
My fine hair drops at every strand
While these paint brushes of mine sweeps so fine.
My mother is so old… now alone with me
Can’t sing long lullabies anymore,
Can you sing for me?
Please put me into deep slumber
To dream that this nightmare sets me free
As I fervently pray and cling tightly to Thee.
My memory riffles through my agonizing tales one at a time
Peeking through a fizzled hope, then I see the light
As all smoked glasses are with colorful paints now
My fragile and emaciated body begin to rise
Anchored by my indomitable spirit, pale skin starts to blush
And my hair grows even more robust than pinctober’s thymes.
©2015Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Oct. 3, 2015 6.25pm
Copyright © Len Gasun | Year Posted 2015
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