Summer is for painting,
Winter is for poetry,
Sitting by the window to try to catch the light.
In winter I dream people in simple black and white.
In August I dream people in all their summer beauty.
December is so grey bright colours just seem false.
Winter is for intellect,
Summer for emotion,
Love burns low when the sun is clouded out of sight.
But there is a sort of wistfulness in the finest poetry,
Tranquility few painters can find ways to express
Except perhaps Vermeer contemplating loneliness, -
Two people in a spacious room
Almost at ease together
Trevor John Karsavin Potter,
8th. January 2022. - November 8th. 2023.
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