Poem by Dan Stone
Here’s a thought.
Pull up a chair.
Hold out your hand.
Paint a picture
minus worries, cares.
Vivid colors,
patterns bright
and true and bold.
Nothing bought
and nothing sold.
Fill a bowl with
tempting fruit.
You can bet
a friend will land
to look and share,
who’ll love this light
who’ll grab your heart
and hold on tight.
It’s making art
without the woes
and giving what
you want to get.
It’s freeing you
from yes or no
from come or go
to love what’s
lovely—just your best,
your own still life.
Here’s a thought.
Pull up a chair.
Hold out your hand.
Paint a picture
minus worries, cares.
Vivid colors,
patterns bright
and true and bold.
Nothing bought
and nothing sold.
Fill a bowl with
tempting fruit.
You can bet
a friend will land
to look and share,
who’ll love this light
who’ll grab your heart
and hold on tight.
It’s making art
without the woes
and giving what
you want to get.
It’s freeing you
from yes or no
from come or go
to love what’s
lovely—just your best,
your own still life.