got a view of a girl on a road
who walks with a basket of eggs
I can't tell if she's coming or going
arriving or walking away
the sky's red like the blood of the moon
the houses are covered with the snow
there's no light in the windows of buildings
and the winds are beginning to blow
I can't see her face
I can't tell her race
can't guess if she's happy or sad
I can't know if the story is ending
if the ending is good or is bad
in the corner's the name of the artist
which I am unable to read
you can't tell if it's evening or morning
but the painting is all that you need
I've stared at the young girl for hours
seen thousands of tales in the scene
I don't know if it really did happen
or was it just somebody's dream?
you don't know the route
when you're in your youth
you never can be absolute
it seems you should know what you're doing
but it's a long road to the truth
got a view of a girl on a road
who walks with a basket of eggs
I can't tell if she's coming or going
arriving or walking away
I love your idea. You're writing about a painting that we don't see. I can see it in my mind. I'm going to try this technique. I usually search for a picture online and write about it. But this stretches the reader's imagination.
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
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Ron