she paints
a very different picture
than the one I see
there is a looking glass
over my shoulder
each time I turn to look
the reflection seems colder
but the shaddow on my right
she is not cold
she seems bright
floating in space
playtime gone to waste
all her teddy bears
sing her sweet goodnights
we are all scared
scattered and shared
we are all
vision impaired
we all paint different pictures
they get to play
while the whole picture screams at me
only rest is to be
buried beneath
pictures are perfect
sitting in the right light
memories allowed to fade
are just pictures in the shade
waiting for the right time of day
till the sun comes creeping back over
exposing the canvass
making me regret
ever having painted a picture
enevitably I will go back
wait for the emotion to reclaim
biding my time
pretending that i am safe
though I will be vacant
no doubt someone else will remain
while she is there she will say
the painting looked different yesterday
so she will change it so it should appear
like it did yesteryear
for just a singular familliarity
in a world that lacks clarity
then i will come back wondering
when i am gone
how is the world seen
for i know
she paints a very different picture
to the one i see.