My brush will paint lavender’s way
where the emerald stone has lain,
while the skies brood in shades of gray
I’ll limn our path where hues remain.


I’ll sweep over ebony’s pain,
my brush will paint lavender’s way.
If moon beams call I’ll 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 lavender’s 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 lavender’s way.



A quatern poem…April 2009