In the quiet rhythm of time, an artist reflects on memory, aging, and the enduring spirit of creativity.
Through trembling hands and a vivid mind, he paints not just lines—but life itself.

This poem is a tribute to every creator whose soul lives on in every stroke.

🎨 I Paint My Thought 🌿

In quiet joy, I bend to trace,
A world within each pencil’s grace.
My hands may tremble, lines may sway—
But art, like soul, won’t fade away.

A crimson thread in fingers tight,
Writing a tale in black and white.
Two faces bloom from rooted ground,
One lost in thought, one wisdom-bound.

The tree I draw, not made of bark,
Strokes my memories, both light and dark.
One face reflects the tears once shed,
The other dreams what lies ahead.

Time ticks within the wall’s embrace,
Reminding me it holds its place.
Yet what is age to heart and hand,
That still create, that still withstand?

O inner artist, brave with silver crown,
You paint the highs, you sketch the downs.
Not just a tree, not just a face—
You draw your truth, your time, your grace.

My soul now smiles with quiet pride,
For in my art, my thoughts reside.
A thousand voices, colors spread—
Yes, my living canvas is never dead.

(Vijay Verma)
http://www.retiredkalam.com

Categories: kavita

Tags: #creativity, #emotions, #poem, #sketches, #wellness, featured