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