Canvas of My Life

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My life is a Canvas

And I am the viewer,

The artists are many stars;

There are many who manoeuvre.

Everyone within my sight

Appear as splashes-

Of colour and light,

Over which my eye passes.

Then, there came a day,

When my eyes found a patch

Of colour, in a corner it lay.

It had no match.

I couldn't choose to ignore,

That little colour, so strange!

I'd never noticed it before,

Now, I found it within my range.

Whwnevr I analysed,

My life around me,

I found myself paralysed

By that spot I see!

Others continued to appear,

Jostling for a position,

And I found I fear:

I couldn't bear it shunn'd!

I never questioned myself,

Why I felt that way.

I wanted that spot

And never give it away.

I never thought

Maybe he'd mind,

That, it never might,

Be me he would find.

Then, one day, that person,

Who was new no more,

Who was my personal Sun,

Who was never a bore,

He came to know,

What I felt about him.

But pretended not to know,

My eyes dimmed.

I was watching for,

That look, that reply,

And whatever his answers are,

It couldn't be a lie.

I couldn't put that

Which followed after this,

In words so pat,

So let me skip to this,

It stayed there,

Whithin my sight.

But,now my eyes were

Missing that light!

I knew that, that splash,

Never wanted this place,

It seemed to flash,

"Get me outta this maze!"

Then, it seemed to dull,

I panicked in despair!

There came a little lull,

And then, a puff of air.

It had just gone.

Disappeared off the sheet!

It may've moved on,

To some worthier seat.

The ruined painting

Of my life: so unclear,

Was worth nothing,

After this disappeared.

I can't write anymore,

I can't explain,

The pain before,

And after that rain!

Yes, it was like rain.

Rain is beautiful,yes!

But, a painting's paint?

Is ruined, I guess.

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