20 april 2012
The Artist
My hands are never still
never will they be “clean”
imagination never stops
a well oiled machine.
Millions of brushes
a zillion gallons of paint
will never be enough
for more my heart will ache.
Paper, walls, and canvas
precious things to me
used to express my feelings
for the world to see.
Written 2002 S.A.B.
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