The Canvas

Oh how she loves her canvas,
The stories that it tells.
Oh how she loves to paint her thoughts,
And etch a perfect spell.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
The memories that it holds.
Oh how she loves to trace the lines,
And tell if new or old.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
Her stability in an unstable world.
Oh how she loves to fret away,
At all of her unfurled.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
A standstill of art and truth.
Oh how she loves the feel of it,
To reminisce her youth.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
A long work of her life.
Oh how she loves the twisted colors,
Splashes of red upon white.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
She crafts each inch with care.
She hides her canvas well away,
Though she often earns a stare.

Do not tell of her canvas,
Keep the secret- she insists.
But perhaps some time take a second glance,
For her canvas is her wrist.

by Dayna Mortimore

Comments (7)

such exotic loving memory where have you hidden till lately a romantic lover poet really r lovely thee u beat me hollowly...ur appear to be a humane poet of love glad to have read your poetry again do read mine I also am a romantic poet for ever in love''''at 15 in India...
Deep passionate feelings well articulated and nicely crafted in persuasive poetic expressions from the heart. A beautiful love poem. Thanks for sharing Asit and do remain enriched.
The days have gone decades ago Memories left to ruminate and rub Wrinkles appeared on the sun-burn skin But still enjoy the childhood love. Yes you got something so memorable while i lost it. Thanks for this sharing. 10+++ for it.
Sweet memories, sweet poem, sweet dreams
Nice one...so my question is-Did u marry ur childhood love? ? ...Thanks...nostalgic.....all have such sweet memories.....some share n some don't....the rest fear...
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