clarity
Vincent sat down Stared at the blank canvas, Said, " You know what? That's just about how people Look at me, when they look At me." Then, He took a loaded brush of color And remade his world.
Once. Upon. A. Time. The rest was like poetry To the ear, The soft hum of voices, The warm breeze filtering in Through the open summer window And the imagination floating off Leaving the body to rest in its quiet, Lulled sweetly to sleep …