I Want to Paint

I want to paint 

A shining silver birch, waving its branches in the cool spring breeze. 

I want to paint the smell of the ferocious fire, keeping us warm on bitter winter days.

I want to paint a golden sun slowly climbing the horizon and the sound of the chirping birds like a singing choir.

I want to paint

The impossibility of a beautiful butterfly, as big as a bus, with the sun streaming through its rainbow wings.

I want to paint the sound of fallen leaves, crunching under my feet.

I want to paint the taste of scarlet strawberries, delicious and sweet.

I want to paint

The inky darkness of the midnight sky, filled with diamond stars.

I want to paint a sky blue cottage sitting under a canopy of oak trees, with green leaves, spread out catching the sunlight.

I want to paint a rainbow shooting across the sky.

I want to paint the end of this poem.