A Flower, with a
Plethora of Colours
‘Cross an Unwrit Canvas.

Quiet and Disguised
By a Mask of White,
He looks past
‘Cross
His Quiet Shades of Ink.

Slashes of Night
‘Gainst the clouded Sky
Of Beige,
Parchment, and
Words that flow as Wine.

A mask of White, as a Leper,
Lay across a lonely Table,
As Painter-of-the-Mind
Waltzes in a starlit Room
By Candelabra’s caring glow,
In a place where No-one sees
What he once was,
Only what he is.