This page is my blank canvas to paint Brushed with my stories of tainted love and pain Strokes remember better than me Where I’ve been, who I’ve loved, what I’ve seen Recycled relationships Recycled heart Life has a way of naturally creating art I look at my canvas Filled with rhythmic notes of jazz Images dance before my very eyes Reminding me of how I once lived my life But back then I was but…
I was meant to fly free like the birds I used to see Through the glass cases at the ROM Trapped, for my enjoyment I know now how they feel The ROM was my escape room Soothing my wounds Masterpieces on the wall Many dynasties did fall Yet paintings of a bygone era lives on But there’s no art Not any more Now I’m a bird Encased behind a closed door Waiting for the world…
The ROM was my favourite happy place Where I could trace Ancient majestic and royal faces Of Egyptians, Romans and Greeks I’d listen as busts and sculptures speak Their stories sublime Rich of this aura of renaissance history And Nefertiti’s magic kiss I used to walk in great mens shoes Down the road at the Bata muse But this year was filled with virtual virtuosity And images of reminisce The winter sunrise is picturesque Lake…