This was an opportunity to clear and clean my studio which quite frankly had become a tip! Having done that I feel ready ( almost ) to start painting again.
Meanwhile here is a recent poem of mine. It is called ' Grey '
A cold wind moves the grey pines
My heart whispers grey like the air
The illusion of independence vanishing
crushed on the grey rocks of reality
The shattered dust of delusion
reforming in glorious yellow
My next painting will be glorious yellow.