The Energy of Art

I read my favourite poem aloud,

I read it from the book.

Traced my hand across the words,

I didn’t need to look.

I see my painting on my wall,

she looks back at me.

The woman in the painting,

so real it’s as if she can see.

Then the book beside my bed,

I’ve read so many times.

I wonder why I read it again,

I know the ending lines.

The photos of my family,

smile out from every shelf.

Reminding me I’ll be okay,

never just here by myself.

These items carry energy,

more than just from a tree.

The energies so powerful,

for the joy it brings to me.

*

lizalizaskysaregrey©2016

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