The sky is but a canvas white
on which Angels draw their dreams;
Some days, a sun shines golden bright,
Some nights, a sleepy blue star gleams.
An Angel drew a stormy cloud,
that raced across the canvas sky;
In temper tantrum, thunder loud,
it grumbled and began to cry...
Rain tears fell in dripping drops,
to stain the canvas, dull and grey;
with misty blues and purple tops,
turning sunshine to a rainy day.
The sky turned dim, a muddy brown,
gloomy blues with purple bleak;
The storm cloud scowled an angry frown,
tempered with a glum black streak.
The Angels picked their bright paint pots,
to splash Violet, Indigo and bright Blue,
Green, Yellow, Orange, vibrant Red,
to turn their canvas bright brand new!
When the world turns cold and dark,
Shine bright like Angels' rainbow arc!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
each nd every color has some meaning. Life is colorful really..