(This was actually written as a song, but it doesn’t have a tune yet, so I guess it’s a poem for now huh? 🙂
Like little coloured pieces of broken glass
Life reflects the sun in Technicolour brilliance
It’s never been a house, but will always be a home
Housing watercolour memories, and oil pastel dreams
There’s a stained glass window in a wooden door
And a patchwork of different carpets on the floor
Multicoloured rooms where no furniture’s the same
And a place for every painting hanging in its frame
You can never cover up what was there before
It won’t ever look the same, and nothing can restore
So just leave it like it is, add to it if you will
No matter what’s been done, art can alter still
There’s a watercolour sky above pastel fields
And a broad charcoal smile beneath a conte tear
It’s an oil and water world, hanging in a wooden frame
It’s on display for all to see and forever will remain
There’s a stained glass window in a wooden door
And a patchwork of different carpets lying on the floor
Multicoloured rooms where no furniture’s the same
And a place for every painting hanging in its frame
There’s a place for every oil and water dream