A place of writing and reflection…
Your canvas is the sky,
Big and tall,
Big and blue,
Your brush is whatever You chose.
Your colors are the rainbow,
So bright and so many.
My canvas is small and blank,
Stiff and white.
My brush is bent and broken,
My colors are few and drying.
I grow frustrated and cannot work.
“Oh how can I paint when my supplies are so rugged and few,” I shout to the air.
“Here,” You say, taking my hand, “I’ll show you.”
Copyright The Faithbook 2012