I  want to paint my dog, Milo, jumping through long green grass in a wide open field. I want to paint the sound of the cool wind blowing through the fresh grass. 

I want to paint ants marching like an army through the tunnels they dug. I want to paint the sound of tiny ants’ legs like the pitter-patter of rain. 

I want to paint the taste of the warm, delicious hot chocolate that I drank at Felixstowe in the Easter holidays. I want to paint the salty smell of the sea crashing against the rocks on the shore.

I want to paint a Domino’s pizza hot out of the oven with stringy, melted mozzarella.

I want to paint the end of this poem