Paint Brush

I can paint a picture of secret
garden pathways
where purple petunias push through
spilled ivory overflowing its pot
and sparrows sing, propped on their
a tune that pulls the sleeping wildlife
from its bed.

my paint brush can hop bunnies across a
blank page
and paint the sky a pleasant blue with
puffy clouds
that open up to let pure sunlight pour through
onto the green, green grass where
grasshoppers hop
and butterflies fly in the passing breeze
along with spinning helicopter leaves
that pitter patter onto the
sputtering creek.

with a single, imperfect paint brush
pebbles splash across pond water,
their ripples eclipsing over lilly pads and
as pensive frogs protest their disruption
of peace.

and all the while a door is painted
through paint & brush I make plant &
creating a private garden that sprouts in
my mind
as it does across canvas, spilling to the
public eye.

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