In Absence of Macey

To spend my time
with brushes in hand
and puddles of brilliant color
splattered across my pallet
Shaping acrylics into forms
of Divas long past
or landscapes I've yet to witness
except in dreams
The canvas breathes life into creatures
who but for it, would not exist.

Yes, to spend my time
brushes in hand
hues smeared 'cross my face,
my cheek,
my hands...
A big yellow dog draped over my feet...

...When I can not be in her arms
This is my refuge.


Angela J. Schleicher © 2009