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Painted Pictures in The Mind

By Mark Crocker

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Sit and read these words and a picture I will build.
See their form and hear their words as shapes take form
As if by magic in your head things appear as they are read.
Magic of the mind takes form in what is said.
Now let’s us start and the magic begins

From a window a meadow is seen where bee’s in summer buzz.
Dotted here and there tree’s stand tall for shade to give.
The smell of wild flowers fills the air as birds chirp and sing.
Gentle breezes though the grass does sing and summers joy for you to see.
Yet this is not a summers meadow just a start for the magic to begin.

The trees stand bare of leafs and huddle in the cold still air.
The bees are gone and stillness is heard as the sky above holds its breath.
The birds to a warmer place have gone no longer to sing and chirp.
Gentle breezes have been replaced by the winters wolf that howls.
Now the picture takes form as magic of words is read.

Stillness fills the air about so loud that it hurts to hear.
Gentle soft and white flakes appear.
Drifting slowly in lazy spirals they drop large to coat the meadow
From your window you are safe and warm, yet outside the meadow takes form
Flakes of snow fall fast and hard coating all that summer did show.

The winter wolf howls loud and the wind picks up what fall did drop.
Flakes fly past your window as the wolf howls loud shaking the trees of the last of fall.
Winters wolf brings forth a biting cold that digs deep to the bone.
Howling loud and shaking at the door winters wolfs lets all know that winter is here.
White flakes fall so fast that all is hidden as a curtain is closed.

Though the curtain shapes are seem, but none can tell what is not seen
Hard and fast flying by flakes that hide all that summer did dream
Howling now in fury winters wolfs bangs at the door.
All shakes as anger of the wolf fills the air as winter comes with its force.
Loud it howls so none can hear.

Time counts as the wolf howls loud fills all with its cold bite.
Pounding hard at the door, it howls loud as its breath comes under that door.
Shaking hard the door stands so that winters wolf can not come near.
Yet time passes by and winters wolf fury is spent.
From your window the curtain is lifted and now the magic of words take form

The meadow that once buzzed with summer bee’s is now nothing but a sea of white.
Humps of grass hidden by drifts of snow blend into the carpet of white.
Winters wolf has covered all with snow hiding all from sight.
The tree’s wear the wolf’s white coat standing tall and proud as before.
Now all is still as the wolf is spent, not a sound is heard as quiet fills the air.

Standing warm at your window you see all in your sight.
See the painting pictured in your head.
Hear the sounds that you just read and let joy of life fill your head.
See in your mind’s eye all that was said and lets it be as you just read.
Feel the winter’s wolf bite and yet not be in dread.

For the magic of words on paper is almost done.
Fill your head with winter’s delight as pictures that once were formed fade.
The magic is done and the words have been read.
Yet still they are there no longer in dread.
Now the magic is done and truth be told for I have started to write again.

©December 2005 Mark Crocker  

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Reader Comments

Name: Bruce Clifford Email:
Comment: Mark, Wish we could see you here more often. Nice job. A well painted picture. Bruce



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