Emerald Fields
I stare at an empty canvas in front of me..
Imagining the greenest of fields
reaching way up high
gracefully fondling, caressing,
teasing a velveteen sky.
I take hold of the brush calling my name..
I begin by painting a sun
to illuminate the lands.
Highlights to portray vitality
smoldering in my hands.
I clean the brush while pondering colors..
I cast upon the canvas
birds sailing abroad,
soaring, flying high. Free!
Then, a treeline unflawed.
In time, this masterpiece will need a frame..
But first, I must paint a
woman, salvation yields,
groveling the mercy of Heaven.
Then, I shall call it, "Emerald Fields!"
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.