The Painter

The painter sits on his creaking three legged stool

His hands brush through his long dark beard

Swishes his pinpoint tipped brush in the water

Grey swirls in the muddy glass

Dries the wet off on his stained apron

The bristles tap into white oil paint

The artist delicately designs the lace

Creates the poofy texture in the bride’s dress

He repeats the process again and again

Again till all is right about the beautiful lady

The painter creates the shadow below her eyes,

He shows the dampness from her tears

She is his true love,

But he’s such an poor unfortunate soul

His arms crossed tightly as his glares at the old wrinkling man

“Do you take this man to be your husband” 

“Yes” she lies

He wishes to kill the old sinning thief