The Painter's Hands I Saw
P Patti Masterman
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The painters hands I saw
Were stained: the skin, all paint
And slender fingers bore
The imprint of his chore.
Upon that skin were lent
The colors of the sky
The beach, the sand, were rent;
The water, going by.
And by their shape and form
Another world is born:
The painters roving eye
Can never stop at sky.
to the muse..
Bu şiiri puanla
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