The Painter

I traced among the skyline

I found all the foreign shapes

The wind, the seas, the river breeze,

In the river glade

The colours came from silence

Pointing to northern lights

I grabbed them with my brush

And painted with my eyes

Though I leave a mark

I traced it with a smudge

For the flaw is I

In dreams, I died

I painted with my love

And from the dust I smeared

Back to the lines I traced,

Stepping back, I fell aghast

At the statue of your face

(Written in Twenty Seconds.)