Poetry: Acrylic Sails Unfurled
A dusty picture faded on the wall
in harmony with floating wisps of web.
Its grace an autumn hue stroked short and tall,
horizon, yacht embarked, and sun-washed ebb,
well captured in the glinting light of dusk.
The paint had aged. Neglect, wet rot and mold
had smudged the letters. Barely there, its husk
was signed, “with love” in waltzing ink of gold.
So many days and months, then years had passed
since artist’s last-drawn-breath and hope-bright eyes
had seen creation, heard harsh insults cast,
and gifted imperfection grieving cries.
Yet beauty cursed with spite and hateful quirk
still lingered, till acclaimed consummate work.
dusky or dusty…brought to mind to me a hulk of a boat on the fore shore…just the name blazenend on the bow..still proud despite the neglect and raveges of nature..
Nicely done…I can’t find anything to add or suggest, or edit, or change. know I am not just supposed to say “I like it”, but I DO I DO!
“In the long run the pessimist may be proved right, but the optimist has a better time on the trip.”