The Final Srokes
The Final Strokes
The many hued sparklers were dappling the almost cindered sky
Turning the sunset from gilded gold to ochery orange.
Michael Angelo's brushes were yet busy with his final strokes
Of separating light and darkness on his beautiful dusky ceiling.
My feasting eyes drifted from the sun's rosy dome
To the soul that wonder'd at the creation of our Creator
'Tis always joy for the sunny eyes ablaze with deliberate bewitchment.
(Earlier-July 8, 2015
Contest: The Answer)
February 27, 2016
Contest:Any Poem#36
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015
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