The poets curse.

My paint has dried upon the moon
But I will paint another soon,
Maybe on a star filled night
To fill the sky with silver light,
Or maybe on a tumbling stream
That dances to a rising dream,
Or even on the shimmering sea
Where you can model it for me.

A masterpiece of all I know
Of subtle touch and velvet glow,
Will hang upon your wall one day
Reminding you of me some way,
Of midnight walks and faded rhymes
And all those unforgotten times,
A painting you will understand
That holds me in some other land.

Gold and silver painted fire
Song chased hearts of deep desire,
And depths of love yet unexplored
Still hang upon our every word,
I’ll take you out upon the lake
Your fingers dangled in the wake,
Inverted worlds we’ll sail upon
Until the breath of life is gone.

But still the story has no end
It waits around the river’s bend,
And changes with the speed of thought
It can’t be stolen, or be bought,
So I’ll still keep the poets curse
Still searching for the final verse,
And when at last it comes to me
Then we shall see what we shall see…

Story ID:	3850
Written by:	Keith Robson (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Ashington Northumberland England
Year:	2008