i long to paint
but this unceasing
palette
of dirty whites
and tired grays
that lurk outside
every window
sucks the rich
marrow
from my bones
whittles my winter-
chilled fingers
into skeletal twigs
silvery bark peeling
clumsy
useless
a cardinal briefly
breaks my
monotonous horizon
a small spot
of vivid crimson
I drink thirstily
with tired eyes
I wonder if
could I render
its flight
on white parchment
or is even my
pigment
my life’s blood
grown
too weak
too pale?
© 2021 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
Brave & Reckless 
Wow. This is lovely. Snow Is beautiful but I do look forward to it melting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for reading and taking the time to respond Brooke.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
In a season drained of color
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Gigi.
LikeLike
Hard to find inspiration in the drab.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed, it is.
LikeLiked by 1 person