Colours play around,
They shine. shimmer, explode
In our eyes,
Like falling stars.
After a long winter,
A gruesome sigh of the wind
Brings melancholy
That is cut by a sword of the Sun -
Rapidly, with no doubt.
Colours step aside,
Lines are complicated yet lively,
We watch the sun go down
And the sky is full of dots.
© Maryna Tchianova, a brief poetic comment to this unique piece of yours.
About pointilism, based on a work by Olga Korepanova
Colours
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121061506879
Свидетельство о публикации №121061506879
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