cerise peony,

Literary: Blank Canvas

1/25/2019 08:30:00 PM Media Center 1 Comments

A masterpiece is the only way I could call them
They are on a pedestal, untouchable
In the same way a high-class sculpture is preserved in a glass case
Their hues are infectious, painting everything they touch
Vivid explosions of their colors; puffy swirls of magenta, drops of cyan
Heavy strokes of burgundy and light splashes of ivory
Along with other shades I couldn’t even name
Come to greet my eyes
Every time I catch a glimpse of them
With huge flocks of people trailing their paint-splattered footprints
How could I ever follow, let alone compete?

I tiptoe after them, quietly but surely,
Just enough to blend in their shadows, unnoticed
An unbecoming attitude
But I could only make the best of it

I manage to get closer
Enough to reach out with a shaking hand
As streams of colors
Of every shade imaginable
Trickle through my fingers
A blazing citrine sunset sky
A deep midnight blue of twilight
The bright emerald greens of ferns
A stark amethyst streak in the galaxy
And the poignant tinges of scarlet on roses in full bloom
Can I be covered in their colors too?
Would it make me, a blank, uninspired canvas
Be as much of a masterpiece as them?

But I could only stare
As the wide spectrum of colors pooled around my feet
Hoping, waiting to be stained for even just a bit
A tiny drop of paint, an almost nonexistent smudge of ink
If it is possible at all
Then please
Just please