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My Sand Painting I felt the lodge poles shifting, From the gentle breeze. Sitting by the darkened earth, Where a campfire used to be. Making pictures with the sand, Many colors I had made. Of red and green and blue, Some a different shade. A moose would feed on moss and grass, The water had to cater. The trees of course were laid in first, The moose would come much later. Blue was added and black was mixed, To give the shadowed texture. Then the many grays and browns, NO, I said the moose was later!! My little brother helping me, At least that�s what he thinks. Now the green for moss and grass, Into which the moose will sink. Now the brown, yes for the moose.lol (she rolls her eyes around) Then her mother came to her, And took Billy from the ground. Now in earnest she continued, In a minute it�s complete. She stood and gazed contented. The painting at her feet. The Masked Writer <o.-> <o.o> (C) 2001 T Lovett |
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