i am not an artist <br />i am not interested either <br />but i am painting <br />since i got senses <br /> <br />i don't have canvasses <br />neither do oil dipped brushes <br />i have only my dreams <br />with open eyes towards this world <br /> <br />i have never seen <br />what i am painting <br />the only clue i got <br />it's her presence that i always felt <br /> <br />like her absence <br />that i always repent <br />a different kind of warmth <br />i have found savin' me in this cold world <br /> <br />don't know why? <br />it seems to appearing <br />on a window next lane <br />yes the one with clear glass pane <br /> <br />baby pink color top <br />tickeled with her blessed smile <br />and all her hair' <br />like caring the soothing face from scorch <br /> <br />i painted every mood <br />on that window <br />in almost every season <br />with my dreams, so obvious <br /> <br />it's almost complete now <br />i just wanna' give a name <br />what should i call my painting <br />dream, love, attraction, heart, all looks unreal <br /> <br />i called it breath <br />cause' i have forgot to breathe <br />long since i have painted it <br />tomorrow it is going to gallery for presentation <br /> <br />see! i painted it <br />and someone will appreciate <br />and for some dollars <br />my breath will go.....<br /><br />Tarun Sharma<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-painting-11/
