My brush will paint lavenderís way
where the emerald stone has lain,
while the skies brood in shades of gray
Iíll limn our path where hues remain.


Iíll sweep over ebonyís pain,
my brush will paint lavenderís way.
If moon beams call Iíll not complain
nor cry when shadows steal the day.


My tints will glow where echoes lay
and mark the lane where pastel reigns,
my brush will paint lavenderís way
with color muted in strumming rains.


When strokes on canvas streak too long
and if your love begins to stray,
in grief I shall not tint you gone,
my brush will paint lavenderís way.



A quatern poemÖApril 2009



© By Marilyn (mterwilleger@bresnan.net)

 

 

 


 


 


 





Lilacs

Moonlight Travel Agent

Cows

Mini-Death

Willow Tree

Fruits of Lost Labor

Late Spring





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