His blank canvas [a poem]

[Littlest]

He loves to paint 

Take his brush and slap

The colour across 

His beautiful canvas 

A blank slate

For him to create 

His own masterpiece 

 

With every stroke 

He’d see as fate 

The final piece 

And piece by piece 

He would construct 

And build up high 

His creation

Exactly how he wanted

 

He made her 

So she belonged 

And how he longed 

To pin her to his wall

Gently and with care

Pride of place 

Wrapped in rope and lace

 

An object of desire 

So delicate and pure 

He wanted so much more 

His masterpiece 

Her master’s peace 

She gave her all

Yet would he catch 

If his art were to fall? 

[Softie.Sleepy]

beautiful poem 

[Littlest]

On 2/8/2024 at 8:28 AM, Softie.Sleepy said:

beautiful poem 

Thank you so much 🥰😆