I want to paint the distance
I want to paint a bulldog barking at a *********** squirrel running across Mr Peter’s fence,
The taste of a glistening, maroon cherry falling off a tree, hanging on for it’s life,
The smell of freshly fallen rain, giving life to the weeds between the cracks,
The memory of my great gran Nancy rubbing her bony hands together, trying to make them warm,
The sound of koalas crying copiously like a baby with no milk.
I want to paint the distance between the beginning and end of this poem.