Thursday, August 2, 2007


The giant child
Wielded the brush like a sword.
The child smiled
And slashed the pale canvas
With flamingo pink.
Carelessly styled,
Flamboyant orange cut a swathe across
Pensive grey,
Not defiled but merging
Like memories.
And then textiled blue
Stabbed staccato across
Unstructured fluffy white.
Too wild
To be hung in a dusty frame
Enclosed by certainty.
Too mild
To resist for long
The dark forces of night.

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