I often
get lost
in your
canvas
p a l a c e
My hands
all dirty
with
old
p a i n t
What’s the colour
of your
dreams?
I d a r e
a s k
Yet you
never
utter
a single
w o r d
So I strive to
find my
answer
in ink
s k e t c h e s
*
I often
get lost
in your
canvas
p a l a c e
My hands
all dirty
with
old
p a i n t
What’s the colour
of your
dreams?
I d a r e
a s k
Those
undecipherable
ink
s
t
r
o
k
e
s
Paint
pirouettes
that won't
tell any
t a l e s
*
My dreams
are
sometimes
coloured
y e l l o w
— with
a
dash
of
b l u e —
Your eyes closed,
while I get lost
in the true opacity
of those abstract
i m a g e s
So I let
all shades sink in—
colouring your reverie
back to
r e a l i t y