Colours play around,
They shine. shimmer, explode
In our eyes,
Like falling stars.
After a long winter,
A gruesome sigh of the wind
Brings melancholy
That is cut by a sword of the Sun –
Rapidly, with no doubt.
Colours step aside,
Lines are complicated yet lively,
We watch the sun go down
And the sky is full of dots.
© Maryna Tchianova, a brief poetic comment to this unique piece of yours.
About pointilism, based on a work by Olga Korepanova
Автор публикации
Марина Чиянова
Комментарии: 28Публикации: 213Регистрация: 17-10-2021
