A canvas in the stream,
that’s all my life is as it seems.
I have to row each day as i paint away, making fine mistakes.
I learn from them and i often contemplate.
I paint the sky as my limit,
the moon as my son
and heavens as my sanctuary.
My colors are dull,
yet i forever shall,
paint that picture, ever so vague to other people.
My silence to the extreme.
The leaves on my tress forever green,
My life is nothing but a canvas in a stream
Bold as a beast, so that i may be fine at defeat.
Beautiful canvas carries all of my precious secrets received.
Roses covered in thorns.
Some contours worn.
I am not perfect see the stream sometimes gets a perfect storm.
My canvas in my stream.
The stars that shine,
the clouds above may cry.
Still my canvas remains enshrined.



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