Of Blue Skies and Purple Eyes

The paintings flow past in the gallery of Life.
Sweet moments; Bitter moments.
Tentative beginnings and painful conclusions.

I stop at the emptiest section:
Of Love.
And wonder,
at the ripped canvases
that litter the floor.
Otherwise, it is bare.
There is a staleness that lingers,
in the stillness
the emptiness triggers,

An urge.

And I pick up my paintbrush
confidently,
and paint my
memories.

The first brush with wild attraction.
Strong hues of red, pink and gold
of life's first infatuation.

The embarrassing attempts
and the cute if clumsy
pick up lines.

The sparks and the fireworks
that always
burn out; fade out..
after awhile.

I pause.

Trembling with uncertainty;
pure excitement.
The section is barely filled.
Maybe,
there will be a painting
like never before.
A painting that is
the essence of this section:

Of Love.

Till then,
I am content to wait;
the inspiration will come.



Till then,
I am content to wait;
For the future begins where memory ends.