Weeps

Crying
The poor painted lady weeps
Her palette
Dry
As she falls asleep,
Dreaming of colors
Blue
And violet,
She thinks of last week
So much time had passed
It seemed not that long ago
The cat
Inadvertently
Knocking over the yellow
And then the red
It was an accident
She was angry
Her two year project
Commissioned by the Met
Ruined
Poverty her constant companion
She stopped painting
Shut the doors to her studio
A dilapidated shack
Angry and bitter
Melancholy
Sacrificing her passions
Slumping into despair
Why me she asked?
It was only later
Years later
After her cat had died
And her bungalow up for foreclosure
Did she revisit her studio
The scene of the bad
And the project
Strewn in the corner
Did she find
A sunburst of orange
For years she knew pain
Suffering
When it could have been worse
She was lucky
She had lived
And her painting
More valuable
Than before