Who Paints The Sky?
Who has the job of painting the sky,
Who owns the ladders to reach up so high,
Who knows which colourful palletes delight,
Perpetual artwork designed to excite!
A fracture appears at the breaking of dawn,
A slither of pink cracks; the new day is born.
A blank canvas waits for the master’s sleight hand,
He lovingly tends all the colours he’s planned.
He flexes his brush, flooding bristles with paint,
Strokes the scene boldly, first, fading to feint,
Swirling his wand, with a swish & a curl,
The magical scene quickly starts to unfurl.
Yielding his baton, he conjures grand spells,
His masterpiece grows, as his talent excels.
Prolific, pearl pastels, harmonious hues,
Oranges, yellows, pinks, reds, greys and blues.
Sheer shades wash over the splash and the flow,
Sweeping through frescos, smudging the glow,
Mixing and fixing the pigments so fast,
As we stand in his dreamscape, in awe and aghast!
14th February 2019
I’m an avid skywatcher, probably why my head is often in the clouds, & not reality! So, my inspiration for this was only a tilt of the head away. However, I started it back in February, & had forgotten to finish it off.
My Dad was a painter & decorator, by trade, and May 1st would’ve been his birthday, so this is my little tribute to him..still painting the skies, beautiful job Dad! ❤️