A work in progress that’s what I am.
My paintings steel being processed in a painters mind,
dripping paint onto a canvas of mine.
An image waiting to be processed over time.
Black and white,
yellow and green.
Who knows how this will turn out?
I’m not perfect not at all you see.
I’m a work in progress.
I’m roughly drawn around the edges,
waiting for my colors to be feeled in.
I’m a work in progress,
waiting for my frame work heavy duty it will be,
so I’ll stand up to all weather you see.
I’m a work in progress for all to see.
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Poem / Other
Poem / Personal Finance
Poem / Children Stories
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