The Painter

A Portrait hangs in the painters studio
The image a tale long told
The paint was once fresh and bright like life
Its wetness allowed him to shape the story held with in
The sculpted Colors bringing a tale to life
But the paint is not so wet anymore
Its become dry and brittle, the color faded
The surface hardened by the slow caress of time
The Painter sits at his easel
Brush in hand it weighs heavy
Its weight like a truck resting in his fingers
The Painter's pallet covered in dried paint that once whispered tales
Now they are covered again by fresh wet paint
Vibrant paint ready to shout their tale
The Painter's canvas white and bright, like a future
A small area covered in paint begins a tale
Its still wet and fresh
A new Tale not yet told
A Tale left ready for the Painter to shape