The palette of my life some colors short;
I mixed a few to get the chosen shade.
While looking through some childhood things to sort,
I cast aside some handiwork I’d made.
The picture deeper with some richer hues;
My drawers less cluttered with detritus gone.
And now, what next? A canvas fresh to use?
A dresser with some space to pile upon?
I do not choose to rush on to the new;
My past and future ever intertwined.
Not painting now, perhaps it’s time I drew?
In storage spacious something rare may find?
These metaphors diverse I do intend;
Results remain remote unto the end.
The Palette of My Life Some Colors Short – Sonnet XXXVI
defying atrophy 