Watercolour

Tiny dots build the naive shape,
Of a blonde innocent lover.
On the doorstep of a lonely
wooden shelter, a teen plover.

As traces of clouds smoothly stain,
Pastel hues dye the morning sky.
The fading swing by the willow,
Frame the pure landscape on her eyes

While the bees rest in pigments of
lavender, young birds stretch their wings.
Scrubs masking a rabbit’s burrow;
Through the branches the sunlight springs

Fresh green meadows start to blossom;
Balancing leaves shadow her roots,
Cold feet on the watercolour;
Near the missing lake, a white goose

From her pale hands the fresco grows;
Behind the mountains the wind blows

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s