Painting of Emerald Dream

• Posted by: Chris Quinlan
• Created: February 9, 2017
• 0

The moss carpet laid by no man and threaded on by same,
a hue to never be replicated by no hand
Am I the only eye to see no man, no hand
no one knows this land but I.
The moss never grew or grows no more,
will it lay upon this road or fade to grey.
Trees that look like blossom flowers glow..
from lights installed by hands that never were.
A sky unreal a dream, a fragment memory..
had never risen or gone down to change this scene.
What are those strokes upon my emerald dream,
no man will grow a fall or fall into my green.
My brush bares no fruit,..
the threads show no signs of bird or beetle,..
no ant, no dog or bee.
The paths come and go to no place but me.
Am I blind to creatures beneath spattered feet. A silhouette appears in shadows I can't see.
I wait for light to shed a life on emerald dream.

-Chris Quinlan Irish Artist ^{Source: Poetry Page}

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