My paintbrush breathes a picture
when words are not enough.
It's low in the amber light
and shadowing diamond rough.
A picture to paint a thousand words:
to make them really see.
To see a self when they look at it,
reminding so much of forgotten me.
The paint has a will of its own-
a will I can't reflect.
With trembling fingers I convey a message,
I paint a lonely text.