I Used To Paint

I used to paint
a while ago.
I used to paint pictures,
pictures of the world.

I’d paint red blossoms
on trees against the sky,
the blue, blue sky.
Maybe over a lake,
a deep, dark blue lake.

Maybe a river would run from that lake,
a river skipping and laughing,
a river with admirers,
small children,
wading and laughing under a rainbow.

And maybe the rainbow
would touch the mountains,
the majestic mountains,
surrounded by clouds, 
clouds that veiled the entire world
in peace and harmony.

And perhaps on that mountain
 there would be a cottage,
a lonely cottage,
a cottage old and rusted,
a cottage forgotten.

                  Julia