If my eyes could draw a painting now
it’d be grey, black or white
like the passing clouds of a teary sky
where the silver lining is fiction
where dreams would vanish when one thought twice.
If my ears could note a melody
of beauty sweet and bitter,
my heart could then take a rest
and my staff would cease to quaver
I wouldn’t need one with this harmony.
If my hands could put into shape surreal
and marshal the monochrome endeavours above
then my threads of gloom and thoughts of love
would vie to vie with the hardest steel,
soften the iciest heart
find the lost
at the cost
of less than a meagre meal
and a single copper coin, perhaps.
~tc©
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