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Erecting her easel
at the foot of the boardwalk
she mixes the paint
a hell-fire pink and crimson
and dips her brush to begin…

She paints
the end of all things
a voice lost to the fractured mind
the final moments of a life
a hand slipping away

She paints
farewell hospital conversations
her father’s beard as a cloud
she thins the blue paint with her tears
She colours in his eyes
Lost to the mystery of time

She paints the setting sun
yawning over the harbour mouth
the boats skipping in and out
As the light begins to wither
she collapses the easel
and throws her canvas into the ocean

Lost to the mystery of time…



◄ Phantom Hands

The Enemy of Love ►


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Mon 26th Jun 2023 13:19

Thank you Keith, Stephen, Stephen and Kevin for your lovely and encouraging comments. It feels good to be writing again after a dry spell.

Thanks also to Helene, Hugh, John and K Lynn for the likes and all of you for reading.

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Stephen Atkinson

Sun 25th Jun 2023 13:03

Beautifully written, Tom 🌈

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Stephen Gospage

Thu 22nd Jun 2023 13:43

Sad but exquisitely written, Tom.

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keith jeffries

Wed 21st Jun 2023 15:59

An exquisite poem drenched in sadness but also a worthy eulogy. Tom, you have chosen your words carefully and dealt with the subject matter with real sensitively. A rich combination of the pen and some brush strokes on a canvas which says it all.
Thank you indeed for this. it is a special poem,

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