who's about to choose a path in the fork,
then wish I can choose the path for her,
point to where she ought to go.
She's lost in thoughts and in my thoughts,
but found herself in my painting,
or did I brought her into life?
I've picked the colors for her backdrop
gold against gray,
sun kissed rays against the lifeless trees
and I can't provide her company
except the dead trees drawn
and I know she's more comfortable that way,
since she won't allow me to intervene.
I cannot see her face,
it's hidden in in her unkempt hair,
and I want to brush it.
Is she facing me or facing away?
A painter can use more control of his art.
I can't keep her off my mind
and I prefer it that way,
but she's bigger than life,
unlimited and boundless.
She picked up the brush
I am the one being painted.
I am the silhouette.
by Neil Palteng