The Painter

so it goes meandering forever
ever so forlorn
seeking for treasures it cant find
things it has once lost

but they're back again
taunting its memories
playfully grabbing it by the edge
pulling it from slipping back
among vast crevices of sharp cold

and so it sees
but does not really see
thinks it awknowledged
but now, it slips away

and gets in touch with its feelings
a mixture of sadness
a beautiful indescribable blue
that no one else can see

slate blue matches the horizon
elevation of the sky
as the orange tinges
staining the place i call home