The Painting Poem by Ben Coomer

you walk along the forest floor
after years of grief and strife
you walk to the edge of the path
and see the painting of your life

the scattered sunlight transforms the treeland hues
as you study the colors the painter could choose
marveling at its brushstrokes both old and new
learning the techniques that are best to use

there are shades of red and splottches of grey
that you wish would just dissapear
and rainbows that could brighten anyones day
but for some reason they never seemed to stay

you take a glance one last time
it seems so historically old
but the painting is unfinished
the full story is yet to be told

you stare into the dense wilderness
on your face you feel the morning dew
you step off the manmade path
cause you realize the painter is you