The only sound the ticking of the key wound clock
as her tears slip, dripping down to her beating heart
the room a somber grey, time to her has stopped
for he has gone and torn their sacred world apart

His presence fills the space as a work of art
So she wanders aimless from room to room,
Searching for her brushes and pigments to start
filling in broken lines, changing the tainted gloom

With an artist’s grace, she paints the blooms
Coloring her heart in vibrant hued flowers
waiting not for someone to save her from doom
but instead, waters her soul with tearful showers

For the tears she once shed in tormented grief
Now gives life to her garden, sprouting green seeds

©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg

7 Comments on “Paint

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