They merge as lovers at midnight,
Fused, to bring the humble canvass to life,
The pale gold of a child’s skin,
The wholesome orange of a bright summer day,
The earthy browns of a red brick town,
A symphony of colors,
Brushed across a vivid landscape,
Bold and quivering as a pair of moist lips,
Now, I tell myself,
The painter must surely be a talented man,
Blessed to capture, a moment in time.
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