she sat in front
of an untouched
white canvas
her instruments
of creation
sat next to her
she mixed the palette
with several
different colors
she was a fan of
the bright orange
it reminded her
of the mornings
that she spent with
her mother
in the background
Mahler, Symphony No. 2
played as she mixed
more colors
she didn’t know what
she’d paint today
maybe a house on a hill
a bird nesting in a tree
a bull fighting a clown
her concentration
was broken with the
piercing harshness
of the damning phone
judging her for
painting on a day
like today
she picked it up
to silence the yelling
and mumbled something
incoherently into the
phone
sat it down
and sighed
her instruments
of creation
lay there
not to be touched today.
