The Painter's fault

A few strokes,
on the canvas.
The picture hasn’t come well.

Let me –
go back to the womb
and start afresh.

Detached

Dusk- it is my terrace time.

The playground is visible
quite far away.
A coin at an arms distance
fully eclipses the ground.

The ground is crowded.
The scene is muted
but for occasional shrieks.
Hundred different games,
overlapping boundaries.

There is a gentle breeze here.
A lone crow swings with the branch.
Sun in its drowning glory, and
A portion of the sky is red.

Life is beautiful from a distance.