My Road
Dr Abe V Rotor
A paint brush in hand, a canvas at my face,I begin my road from where I am and born,and walk tall as the sun rises to lead a trace -the road I make is my life from here on.
Along I make beautiful houses and fields,tall trees, tall mountains, birds singingof love and praise, and I capture the breeze,with leaves golden that start falling.
I stop by the road, I stop at anything,stop longest at night, waking with the sun,until I ask where my road is leading -but my brush is dry and colors gone. ~
No comments:
Post a Comment