I am but an artist
Alone with the ink
In my pen.
I color the blank canvas
With words,
Using hues so deep
I create visual arts
In the mind;
A picture in a
Thousand words.
They are lost
Memories remembered;
A dance of emotions
Expressed in a song.
My pen flies across
The barren landscape
Of white,
Telling the story of
My painted life
With it's perfect imperfections
In each pen stroke
Of my imagination.
