The Island

This one might be a stretch, but, after repainting it several times my roommate exclaimed that it looked like a submerged island. I still don't know if I see it, but I liked the idea of every other picture I'd tried being buried under layers of paint. So, I wrote a poem about it, to make it make sense.

Her island covers all her dreams

Lying there half-sunk in seas

Sandy shores with white-capped waves

Nothing in sight for days and days.

Yet deep below there lies a girl

The reddest hair in all the world

Pale-white face with a stubborn jaw

Deep blue eyes I couldn't draw.

Then a pink flamingo underneath

The islands' waters now they keep

It's life, it's flight, it's painted wings

All kept still by painted seas.

Beyond that an abstract thought

The orange, the purple lines they fought

An idea of chaos somehow designed

by an intricacy of my mind.

And at the bottom lies four trees

Gnarled branches bereft of leaves

The piano stands upon the grass

Soul-bared melody unmasked.

Upon all these my island sits

With nothing left but what it is

A wispy shore, sinking deep

With all my dreams drowned beneath.