If you walked into the room

The first thing you’d notice

Would be the painting –

As captivating,

As it is intriguing;

Every brush stroke

Executed masterfully,

To capture the essence,

Of the artist’s romance

With nature’s abundance.

And yet,

There is a void,

That detracts from the whole –

A sign of rebellion,

A maze of abandon,

Where the brush strokes,

Seemingly lose

Their sense of purpose,

Creating an eyesore

Almost.

And so we find

This pretty picture,

That bears mute witness,

To the most agonising tale,

For such is fate

Sometimes.

And those are the dabs

Of sombre paint,

Thrown in with the sparkling bright,

Of green, gold, purple and pink,

And all else that evokes delight.

Image Credit: Photo by Steve Johnson on StockSnap