I wish I could draw with grace,
But alas, it's not my gift, I confess.
To sculpt from clay or burn with fire's embrace,
Or even create movies, no less.
How can I describe the snow's gentle fall,
So eyes can truly behold?
To capture a winter scene on a wall,
As if gazing through a window, untold.
How can words paint a picture so clear,
Commas tracing trails on the snow?
I struggle to express, it's my fear,
That understanding, not everyone will know.
The whiteness blinds, yet words fall short,
For the eyes alone cannot convey.
I can write upon the snow, in retort,
But the snow itself, I cannot portray.
I long to possess the artist's skill,
To sculpt, draw, and create at will.
Tired of hints, murmurs, and repetition,
Yearning for words to escape my volition.
I wish I could draw
© Copyright: Павел Ишанов, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123083103145
Свидетельство о публикации №123083103145
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