White over the blue, blue over the green
they covered the walls, I am surrounded in
thinner perfume caused a mental faint
...
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what makes me grew older... the past, the childhood and i painted my faded hair.... lovely write...so beautiful.. i touched it..
Zahra, Painting is in itself... A Masterpiece! Your words elicit emotions within me that not many have been able to achieve. I take my hat off for you Miss Zahra, and kiss your cheek, as my thank you for touching me... You are gifted and I so look forward from more words from you. Great Write! ; -) -Kelly.
really really brilliant one.i enjoyed the meaning behind it.our childhood which is forgotten, our paintings, oah how much i desire my childhood and my paintings... mercy bocu for sharing~nb
This means so much to me, the layers which express the intensity and involvement... the right here right now, where you stand and stare at your achievement and you cannot help smiling as you have left one tiny piece of that enthusiasm in time, a very real part of you....so symbolic...where sable and you mix....the word childish (to me) expresses our moment of escapism back to when we were free to paint beyond the eyes of those who smiled and said 'well done'.....hope you know what on earth im going on about but this has given me great encouragement to pick up my brushes again, so.....love it and tyvm
Brief but beautiful. Nice to note that poets like you are here to talk about stark realities.. All the best ahead Miss Zahra
the brush of painter someday was my hair! Full of innocence. Good write
Hi Zahra, Really enchanting poem. While new paints are supposed make the walls more beautiful, what it actually does is this: Childish drawings died under paint. From the past, something was left there, that were the real decor of the wall. Sure, Zehra, the brush of painter someday was my hair! Loved reading. Fantastic write. Congrats and thanks for sharing. Do keep writing and sharing.