If I could paint, you’d be a glob of brown
I’d add blues and greens to darken your hue
You’d be scribbled with no shape and no form
One couldn’t tell your legs from your arms
Your eyes would be yellowed and your heart in your feet
When I’m done you’d be black as the street
Scumbling would be my next technique
I’d do it to hide what’s beneath
I’ll call you Chameleon, that’s what you are
Upon closer inspection what’s underneath will come into view
Even if marked free no one would want you
If I could paint you’d be a cool breeze
You would sway to and fro and rattle the willow trees
Your pale cool colors would fade away
Just like the dawning of a new day
First orange, then yellow then back again
No matter how hard I’d try, your color wouldn’t stay
Fair well my friend
As memories of you get smaller and smaller
You would end up a dot on my page
And in time, we would disengage
If I could paint, you would be a glass of merlot colored wine
Paper, cotton, linen, perhaps a mural on a wall
Mixed media art, definitely big, not small
I’d start with old gold
You, near my heart, I would shape and mold
Add royal purples, you would be regal and fine
My love for you would stand the test of time
You would be big, strong, and never sold
Looking at you would never get old
Bold strokes of black would accentuate your form
And the stem of your glass would be a vast strong arm!
If I could paint, you would never be complete
I’d start with white then add a red tint
Or, add a touch of white to dark green then you’d be mint
I’d wrap you in softness, easy on the eyes
The color of milk and billowy like the sky
I would never sell you, your value is too high
I’d cover and protect you from pain and danger
You’d be my babe and I your mother
To depart from you would be to die
Like a chain, forever we are linked
There’d be two of you, similar but distinct
If I could paint, rainy days would be great
Boys and girls would be outside having fun
There would be no weapons, no guns
I would paint big strong acorn trees, and kids with scrapped knees
Row homes would be all around,
An ice-cream truck would be coming down the street
And little girls jumping double-dutch to a beat
Children leaping up and down in the water plug
There would be acorn fights and lightning bugs
Your colors would resemble a rainbow, they would ebb and flow
I’d paint you big and place you out front for all to see
When viewing you all anger and sadness would flee
If I could paint . . .
Angela Larks is a recent graduate and communications major at Penn State Harrisburg.
