The Painting
A brush paints a picture like poetry on a page
Colors; for faded love but bathed in the brightest rays
It paints a picture of two lives, fading in graying years
Painting on a worn-out canvas, happiness and tears.
A portrait painted with pride, once worth taking the risk
Strokes painted in splinter, but underneath cracks exist
A picture hiding deception from a life unraveling in fears. A portrait painted on canvas and stained with a million tears. Memories, try to stitch and pull a sagging canvas in vain. Too much pride to cover the cost, answers back with pain So clean around the edges, through the heart, a knife, a slice.
With so much bad to tip the scale, the good must sacrifice
A painting of a sad, sad story and hangs there until the end.
Each kiss that caressed the canvas slipped away by the stroke of a pen. Hearts, peeled and broken, good times fall to the past Dreams left on the canvas. fading love that failed to last. Smiles conceal the hurt that’s tailor made to weep. Hangs there on a wall of honor but shades of pain bleeds deep. Bright colors camouflage the flaws, for beauty, a portrait thrives to betray. Now, the brushes are cleaned and conditioned and carefully put away. There remains a picture, tossed away for the buyer to collect
A blacken hue, cracked and stained, no conditioner can correct
A love now lost to memories and fading away with time
Golden rings under the looking glass, the seller’s grandest find
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