#160-Nameless
07/01/2018
An image on a wall,
The old part of town,
Where streets are narrow,
Houses old,
Walls cracked and peeling,
And artists living.
Her stare mesmerizes,
Touches,
Even whispers.
Colors,
Brush strokes,
Caressed souls.
We gazed at her a while,
Then as strangers in the night,
Left, no goodbye.
Just a thank you,
Dreamt into the breeze,
To a nameless painter,
And a painting that speaks.
