Tuesday, July 24, 2012

On My Table

Painting taking shape. Next stop Easel.
I was able to paint a little this evening, after another hot day.

The process.
The unfolding.
The story begins.
She states, I am not too out of touch with being compassionate.  
Her voice... softly asks, for a touch of pink.

She whispers, I wish to be spoken of gently... 

 to be crowned with a purpose, I have yet to seek. 

See with your heart. Feel with your soul. Paint with your hands.