Poetry

To Be.... Art

I saw the colours of your music, I heard the words of your painting and I closed my eyes to the the feelings of your dance.

The scream, Munch for my attention, the stroke, each canvas whispers to me, Black Pearl, I see them, strips of colour. Red shoes gently taps at my feet.

So distant but still I know not of the grain of dirt the land you live in, but if graced with a voice perfect like an orchestra, a face so surreal,as you dance your way into my heart. Your not beauty, Your art itself