I want to paint- 

the sweet smell of grass that blows in the whining wind, making my hair flow behind me,

the round red monkey bars letting me swing whilst I feel fresh and free,

the triangle topped roundabout spinning me fast ,while holding on tight to the blistering blue rope,

the squeaking sound of silver chains, squeaking with each swift swing

and the small sized spider web that circles half of the park.

I want to paint-

my dearest friend, who is as funny as a clown, pulling faces all the time,

her lego pieces strewn across the room like a scattering of leaves under my feet,

her beautiful brown hair on her head, like a horses mane blowing in the wind,

and her lights glowing up stairs like neon stars in the dark blue sky.

I want to paint the sour taste of lemons making my teeth tickle.

I want to paint the smell of flowers blooming from an orchard.

I want to paint the sound of chicks chirping in the midday sun.

I want to paint the memory of grandad’s wise words and his joyful laugh.

I want to paint the impossibility of snails becoming famous on instagram.

I want to paint the way we have to distance in shops while being in covid 19.

I want to paint the end of this poem.