• As if competing with the gods

Your eyes often transfixed upwards

Memorized by the moving clouds

Creation has always been your strength

Today is no different

Asked to paint clouds on a ceiling

You assembled your tools of creativity

But the vision remains in your mind

You feel the warm wind gently blowing

Cirrus clouds

Your scaffolding is two step stools

Hands gnarled with arthritis

But those white clouds need your touch

To exist

Please though, at 71, don’t fade into your art

FXC frankxcameron.com. 03/06/2021 Copyright