The Canvas

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 03, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 03, 2018





I wait for the young boy’s courage 

Staring at the brush in his hand

Desperate for a touch of beauty


The boy timidly approaches 

A flurry of excitement rushing through me 

As these white walls will finally cease to be


But the tender moment broken by the callous handed father 

Who barges through the door

And yanks the boy’s weapon from hand 


An angry finger points him to his father’s work

Where the boy was always told

That would make him more of a man


And so the hardened face cast me into a black abyss 

covering the lid ensuring his son’s future will look like his 


But late into the night I hear footsteps approaching 

Each step being laid like fine china 

until a small grip pulls me free 

carrying me ever so quietly


A successfully burglary 

Where Under his bed I’m tucked away

Savoring the chance to fight another day 


I sighed with relief because come morning I know he’ll pick up that brush once more 

But when feet hit the floor

I remained


My only greeting was that of a glance from fearful eyes 

Exiting the room and wondering 

if they should dare to take a chance 


For months our eyes would meet but still I lay trapped here underneath 

my only means of escape in the hands of a boy 

Whose courage stood as much a chance as me


So it was only a matter of time 

For soon we stopped exchanging glances 

the years passed before me 

Like a timeline I couldn’t stop from fast forwarding 


No matter how much I screamed and shook 

no matter how much I begged and pleaded 

The inevitable truth soon crept in 

I would die here looking exactly as when I was created 


What bit of remaining hope would be momentarily revived

When a familiar calloused hand retrieved me from my casket 

Though it wasn’t the hardened face from years before

Just a younger version that much I was sure 


We stared at each other for a time 

As I hoped, begged him to try just once more 

But I was no longer staring at a boy who once ran wild and free

This was the tamed version who couldn’t stand the sight of me 

Seeing my pale body as a reflection of a foolish dream


So this hidden longing now moved to an attic memory

Where dust settled more vigorously

And the surrounding darkness nursed me into a coma where I knew I would be forgotten




Suddenly a burst of light awakens me

As my eyes adjust a blurred figure looks around

till our gazes lock and there I see a chuckle of shock


As a helpless babe I reached out 

And after decades this long forgotten memory was finally embraced

Saved by calloused hands grown frail by the years 

Though unlike those decades ago 

These hands no longer tied by fear


Taking me down from my slumber 

I gazed more upon my freer 

Recognizing that young boy 

Only a lot more wrinkles 


He set me upon an easel 

Making this dormant heart beat again

Then, this boy with hair as white as me 

Gazed at my complexion wondering what he should make of me 


And with a slight shake in his hand he drew closer

A smile escaped his lips but oh if he could just see mine


A few hours passed and I was no longer an empty carcass 

But a firework of color

And stepping back we both stared

marveling at the difference we now saw in each other 


And just as before the tender silence broken 

Only this one a young girl creeping through the door 

Her jaw dropping as if the sight of me was something she’d never seen before 

“Grandpa” she said 

“It’s beautiful.”

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