For me.

Another one, yet again, for me.

She
is a book,
held shut
under the eyes
that seek to read her.

Touched
by the hands
that know only to write,
She
will reveal her pages,
colored blank.


--

Shamanth

and from before

the "rainbow"

the "painter"

For me.

Like the previous "for me" this too was writtten for me and me alone.

"You fill me with joy,
And I smile at you.

You share your pain,
And I frown for you.

You touch my heart,
It melts for you in my eyes.

You open your arms wide,
I embrace you.

You present me life,
I give back to you what is rightfully yours."  

 Shamanth

For me.

This was written for me and me alone. 




"Not a painter I am,
but a poet!" you say,

I am reading them all,
So delighful are they!

Sparing the brush,
im compelled to say,

Brutal art thou,
with the words that you weigh.

Shamanth