What an interesting birthday weekend this is, as I see my 41st arrive with a colorful bow. I’m still a son disguised as father time, but thank goodness I still look youthful for my age. But’s it’s what on the inside that counts in the end, doesn’t it? So just after midnight I painted this quick flower sketch from my head, as I have no idea how things turn out, I just let nature run its course and here it is. What would it be like painting on the day of your birth? Well it came up flowers, two of them. So I wrote a poem to go along with it:
Two flowers dancing in a strange land
too old to die, too young to understand.
Can the dream of a life worth living come
as a wife?
As alone it seems, I’m not that far from home.
Many years spent in a cloud of confusion
things get scary and forces you to a state of seclusion.
One day you hope the window cracks and the light comes in
and once the snake sheds his skin life can begin again.
I have only love to offer from a paper cup
the simple things in life are just enough.