There, standing,
in front of his canvass rested on it's easel,
Oil paints ready,
Paintbrush at hand,
was my step-father.
Ready to enter a world full of Hope,
And pure imagination,
Inviting the 12-year-old me,
on this fantastic Oil-Adventure!
With a wisp of his fragile hand,
He's off!
Creating a masterpiece-world of his own!
He closed his pale green eyes, and told me a story,
About nothing, but everything.
You see, this story of his,
wasn't in words...
No, no... this specific story was through art...
I watched intently.
He opened his eyes slowly,
and his hand moved,
painting a small brook.
He moved again, adding tall green grass,
and an old red barn.
Just by the way he painted it,
You could tell the barn's red paint was fading.
He added a few evergreen trees,
and a pink sunset sky.
I could tell,
Just by looking at his face,
that he was happy,
His eyes had changed,
from that serene green from before,
to a vibrant lime color.
they glistened in the dim room,
I looked back at the painting,
i laughed.
He had painted a rainbow trout,
Jumping,
From the Brook with a Story.....
Dedicated to: Randy Penland
I miss you... your always a step away from me, Step-father! cancer was a hard battle!
