BLANK CANVAS
Everyday is a blank canvas.
Some days,
The canvas is full of gold medals
And lucky pennies,
On those days,
it’s easy to see everything
Through rose-colored glasses,
To forget that
It isn’t always like this.
Other days,
Your canvas seems dark as night.
You find yourself in a
Deep, dark wood,
Or sinking in quicksand.
The canvas full of
The fossils of past mistakes
Haunting you,
Taunting you.
Always remember,
This too shall pass.
And then
There will be easy days again.
Days that are all smooth sailing,
The canvas coming to life
with the delight of
Breezy afternoons and
delicate forget-me-nots
Basking in dappled sunlight.
For more information about Paint Chip Poetry, check out my previous post here!
Amy Bellamy, Author 
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