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Tuesday, January 11, 2011

The Easel

It is empty of paint and brushes.
It stands neglected in the cellar.
It stands in a corner.
I sit on the couch.

I sit and watch.
I plan to pain.
The paints though are upstairs.
I sit and watch.

Its three legs stand,
as my two legs sit.
The empty canvas is white
and the television which is on is bright
and easy.

The people talk
as my mind thinks,
regrets,
and my two legs sit.

I sit and I watch
as I plan to paint,
but the paints are upstairs
and so is my bed.