I want to paint …

The sweet smell of picnics flowing quickly through the wind, 

the sight of magnetic magpies stealing tin foil,

a dancing daisy in the whistling wind sending pollon around,

the noise of a squeaky swing rocking back and forth   

and the tuff towering trees that are still standing to this day. 

I want to paint …

The silence of the children as they drift into their imagination,

a cookbook as lonely as a lost thought drifting around the room, 

the laughter that the children bring to the library as joyful as a joy ride,

the smell of newly opened books as clean as a whistle

and the children casting shadows like big bad monsters.

I want to paint … 

I want to paint sapphire blueberries melting on my taste buds.

I want to paint the smell of the fresh morning dew evaporating. 

I want to paint the sound of laughter filling the air.

I want to paint the sight of white fluffy clouds drifting in front of the bright yellow sun.

I want to paint the impossibility of a goldfish turning into a shark. 

I want to paint the end of this poem.