Wet Paint

Hello. I've written a thing which I'd like to share with you. I half wrote it walking back to mine one evening and then finished and polished it when I remembered it again. It's called "Wet Paint" and goes thusly:

Wet Paint

Paint never dries.

It's always soft and slightly tacky

Like a paperback teenage romance.

It's just sticky enough to pick up dead bugs,

Bits of fluff and other grime;

The sort which can hide it for a time,

But can be wiped off

By one glass of carelessly poured wine.

As the walls age the colours fade

But there's still enough of the original tone

To remind you of the vibrant shade you'd once known.

It can be covered with another colour, bright and new,

But there's that spot in the corner the brush can't reach

And what you've tried to hide peeks it's way through,

Contrasting with what is now meant to be on show,

Giving the lesson it's trying to teach.

You can scrape off the old paint

With abrasives and caustic solutions,

But in that confusion of effort and sweat

What can't be forgotten is the fact you're trying to forget.

Let the colours mix and meld.

Plain black or white are both - truth to tell -

Dull and uninspiring. So paint your walls a riot

And let the scattered patterns lead you to a more organic quiet.

One hopes you're well,
Yrs,
ADWoodward