Where are these blessings coming from?
Like vague caress of the doting father
Like water paintings melting into letters
Of a script not learned yet
Maybe a longing to have
A richly textured painting, long past
A subtly nuanced life
From light to dark to light
Along the straight line;
From a dirt road to the highway
Where night meets day
The sun thaws colours
And paintings are lain bare
Where weeds and climbers grow rampantly
Written in response to — Weekly Prompt “Night meets Day” hosted by Eugenia.