Solitude and silence
Awaken my being,
And within the walls
Of my cocoon,
My languid gaze
Falls on a blank canvas
That is my mind.

Taking a stand
Before my mental easel,
I lift my imagination’s brush
And dip it into a glass
Of fresh inspiration.

I dab at my semantic palette
With primary colors of
Nouns, verbs, and other words;
Blending them into
Hues of phrases and clauses
And painting them
Within the lines of thought.

The canvas, once empty,
Becomes filled with memories of
Mirthful moments and
Sorrowful sojourns;
The picture evolves
Into a snapshot of life that,
For better and for worse,
Is precious.

© 2005 by Robert E. Blackwell