Paint – Three Generations | A poem

When I read that ‘The Prompt‘ this week was the word ‘Paint’ I knew exactly what to write about.

This past month my dear parents have been staying with us in New Zealand, visiting from their home in England. My dearest Mum loves to paint with watercolours and has been taking classes for a couple of years. The time we have shared with her, and my dear Dad, has been all about enjoying every precious moment and most of those have been spent in nature, tossing a ball to our crazy dog, watching the rabbit, guinea pigs and birds in the garden, as well as playing games, painting, or listening to her play the piano.

This poem was inspired by a very special moment shared painting with my Mum and my youngest daughter…

Paint – Three Generations

Fluid, like her young mind, her hand glided –
across the paper, bringing it to life.
She sang, as the colours of the paint changed,
swirling on the end of her brush.

Her mother sat near, focused on the paint,
willing the colours to light up a scene,
the way nature had lit up the forest –
where her daughter had left her fairy steps.

Grandma painted a beautiful landscape,
from a brochure she’d found tucked in her bag.
Her practiced hand painted with passion,
a quiet mind, happy in the moment.