Standing back from the easel, I see that it’s complete,
my life still a work in progress.
Maybe too much green, perhaps a dab of cerise, and yet,
standing back from the easel, I see that it’s complete.
Some lush strokes, others thinner, the whole of the canvas
is what matters, and not every mistake should be fixed.
Standing back from the easel, I see that it’s complete,
my life still a work in progress.
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