Painter

We talk without the words sometimes,
Squeeze of hand or shoulder
Looking at one another, then smiling
Gentle recognition
Now we’re talking and you say things
Check no-one is around to hear
As you curse the ones you know don’t think
At all mostly
Ask if I mind these curse words, I don’t
Of course you’re aware already, just checking
Your chuckle tells me that
I wonder where all this has come from
Do you just need a sounding board?
Someone who won’t tell you
You can’t say, mustn’t think, shouldn’t feel that!!
Just the canvas on which to paint
That picture swirling in your mind
Because it torments you so
Stopping your colourful imagery for a moment
To check if I’m okay with the canvas
And how you fill it
With happiness, sadness, expletives
Observing that it’s just as it should be, you carry on
A squeeze of the hand,
Looking to see who’s listening
Though frankly you have no care
Let them listen, all of them
Your anger has returned again
The painter was told how his canvas should be
He isn’t exactly sure what to do
His fuse has been lit, gunning for you!
Looking, he says what the hell do I do?
Tells me his wishes, needs my support
Calm again now
I’ve said do what YOU want, I’ll fight them all
That’s settled it now, no holding back
Be wary of crossing that sweet looking old man

Ailsa

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Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️

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