I want to paint-

the beautiful ruby red roses fluttering in the soft breeze,

the tall elder trees growing little by little,

the ultra modern stone pressed path,

the smooth damp grass grooming my cold feet

and the undergrowth under the shade from the hot trees giving the

plants a sun free vacation.

I want to paint-

the sound of a cloud fluttering in the wind like a butterfly, fluttering around the sky,

the big blue birds soaring around the sky hiding behind the bright white clouds,

the bright wight clouds as they slowly move along the sky,

the lonely butterflies flying around as they make more friends

and the red sky slowly turning black like a tv screen.

I want to paint the smell of a lavender flower with a single bee pollinating it,

I want to paint the feel of an alive chicken in my hands,

I want to paint the sun, in all of its glory,

I want to paint the second bird song on a summer’s day,

and I want to paint this poem’s song.

I want to paint the end of this poem.