The Palette

The Palette

The palette of my life

Has upon it many layers

Thick with the remnants

Of past creations

It holds memories

Of inspirations

Long forgotten

The colours are still merged

In crazy copulation

Combined an old perspective

New direction

Dust now merged

With the oils and pigments

A stained piece of rag

Trapped in the paint

A tattered old reminder

Of life that used to flow

It remembers faces

Long passed into dust

Places that bear no resemblance

To their likeness

Forever changed

By foolishness and greed

Smiles and tears

Still have their traces here

Life teeming with energy

Long forgotten

The ghosts of my existence

Show their faces there

Its’  surface hardened

With the regularity of disuse

It holds a fascination

Borne of familiarity

The marks of my palette knife

Are etched here

A reminder

That it once held my attention

That hours passed like minutes

In concentration

My hands making magic

with its’  mixtures

The dye inscribing thoughts

With permanence

Unique, like none other

Framed forever

The hues

That once made up the masterpieces

The shades of difference and design

They are still evident

Upon the faded surface

Ever painted

In the galleries of my mind

© Ann Bagnall and, 2013.


6 thoughts on “The Palette

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