Thursday, October 6, 2011


Unusual, people complain the world is blue..
I see a canvas in front of your brown eyes..
That has me painted in it, in a countryside road..
The occasional twinkles and the shines, amuses me..
Mother of creation, as you have always been..
To the beautiful things that I see, that exists..
I run to catch a glimpse of palette that you have..
The white, had green, had blue, had red, then white..
I know to discover the magic you flaunt and boast..
Picture shaping up, had a smile, a white smile..