Paint It

The white canvas,

seems blank to the eye,

hides what you leave behind,

the roads, the seas, the skies all it seems all you see.

The scars, the smiles,

at the end, it's all white,

swept away every night,

the perfect picture never stays, maybe was never made.

It's a chance every day,

to make the story right.

the right colors is what it takes,

so grab a brush before its time.

Hold it as long as you can,

recreate it every day.

until you find,

the perfect picture was always white.

                                                      -Himanshu narang