Canvas of life

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autumn

A blue sky, no clouds to be seen.
Like a clear canvas waiting to be painted.
I only hear the roar, the jets so tiny.
Drawing a path, a white streak on a blue sky.

The pattern left is sometimes unique,
Some will say it spoils such a blue sky.
Others will admire the freestyle art,
Of unknown artist to those below.

We start off life, as clear as a blue sky.
No markings, no stains, all innocence.
We make our path, we draw on our canvas.
Just like that white streak, sometimes unique.

Mistakes made, some can be erased.
Others are permanent blemishes.
By life’s end, our canvas is fully painted.
With vigour of youth to diminishing of age.

By C.E. Pereira
(24-9-2013)

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Author: cepcarol

I'm a Eurasian of Portuguese, English, Scottish and Malay heritage. And my extended family are of Chinese and Indian heritage. My world is made up of different colours like the rainbow. And like the rainbow I am unique. Reading is my form of relaxation, to escape from the drudgery of daily life and enter into a world of the imagination. It is the love of reading that has led me to try my hand in writing short stories and poems. I hope that in some way my stories and poems will take you for a little while away from the drudgery of the present into the pages of imagination. To new friends found, I bid you, Welcome. Sincerely, C.E. Pereira

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