It was really hard to set her paint brush down She never thought about that day coming round Water colors is the medium she chose to try Using paints in little tin boxes that the kids buy Just the eight basic colors was all she would need Knowing how to mix them was useful to succeed Six cheap brushes from large to one tiny and frail And a big pad of watercolor paper that was on sale Landscapes showed her talent, most folks would agree All her friends have paintings, all were given free She loved to paint the sky with white billowy clouds For a piece to be finished, she would have to feel proud A brush filled with black paint dropped from her shaky hand On her perfect finished clouds is where that brush did land It was to be her last, though sad, at least she could say Across New England, in many homes my paintings stay Author Eileen Clark 2023 I was cleaning out a basket near my computer and found a couple of old watercolor brushes. I placed them in a plastic bag where I kept others. I was looking at them for a bit and to my surprise, tears welled up in my eyes. I haven't done a painting in years because of my shaky arthritic hands, hence this poem.
Artful Poetry 