Blank Canvas (Painted is the Painter)

Grey like the dust I collect in the attic

My long life of ill health is an endless daydream of all the paintings I'd like to be

I could smile like the Mona Lisa

Or with the same mouth I could be the scream

I could be Escher's House of Stairs

Or one of Dali's lucid dreams

But before you think this an incurable strife

Think of a blank canvas in your life

And all the light that it could beam

If you wielded a paintbrush and dreamed