I want to paint

the smell of my Grandma’s hobbitty pie, as its onion-filled contents is placed on the fractured plate,

the taste of bangers and mash: glory to my taste-buds,

the sight of autumnal leaves drifting down to the grass, like a feather,

the sound of a collared dove, singing its tiny heart out, while the sun’s head peeks over the horizon,

the feeling of pure joy, when receiving something, which has always been wanted,

the love of a mother, nursing her young: the love of her life.

I want to paint

a city, full of people, like dots rolling up and down,

a gathering of stars, like ********* in a dark, velvet curtain,

the planets, giants of the galaxy, great mounds of gas, great mounds of rock and dust,

the silhouette of a family, watching waves crash against a cliff,

a crimson poppy, dancing in the wind, swaying amongst dying weeds, strong,

an apple, perfect and untouched, lay on the bright green grass, alone and waiting,

I want to paint a snail, slithering along the sand, in danger of dying in the scorching heat.

I want to paint the curtains of the night, leaving a village in the dark, to be opened by the sun, and closed by the moon.

I want to paint an ice-cream being held by a young girl, her eyes fixed on its milk chocolate flake.

I want to paint plastic, bobbing up and down, hopelessly bottomless ocean.

I want to paint the love of the people, who are here in this world, each and every one of them unique in their own way.

I want to paint the smile on my face, as this is being read, by you….