Naila

You blankly stated, On which I write my thoughts Some of them are strong and bold While others are soft and polite. You are my canvas, Landing tall at ten fleeting doves I splash colored oiled pigments Here and there and down our halls You can see it down on our walls. The brush strokes it on through, The pigmented oils of The hair hues of blue They've painted. Hair waiving through line after line. With shade after shade As if the ink was there.