Canvas

My life is a canvas, my brushes actions,

I painted me some memories that date right back.

Back to a future  that leads to a present,

Presenting itself in strokes of brights,

the yellows, the pinks, the whites.

Symbols of hopes and dairy draped dreams.

A soiree of unicorns in candyfloss uniforms.

A single stroke, a paint brush broke.

Following are strained strokes of blood grays,

crimson skies and dark rays.

Painful dark spoils this work of art.

Black, dominates, culminates.

The hates, bad dates, fake mates.

Saturated in shades of dark

actions that leave marks.

Tilting my canvas  did my focus like a lotus,

blossom into, grew slowly into, egg to fetus.

Mixing the good, bad and ugly..

The blues music and yellow fever,

creating the greens, beautiful greens.

the moss,mint,emeralds

the basil, pickle and sage....

My canvas,more beautiful with age!