She picked up her brush
And began to paint
With broad, bright red strokes
The paint smeared and dripped
Trickling over a pale white surface
Setting her brush down
She sat and watched
The red ribbons spread and fall, winding into
Crisscrossing paths
Light reflects from the darkening paint
Ricocheting off the brush
Causing eyes to water
And vision to blur then flicker
Suddenly the once bright shade
Has morphed into a near black hue
And the canvas hits the floor
The metallic brush skittering off
To collect dust in a forgotten place
YOU ARE READING
Black Box
PoetryInside you will find a collection of poems that I hope will help you find some sense of peace. If you like what you read and want more you can follow my Tumblr @pale-rosewritings
