She drops the old sheet on the floor,
stained, smeared with colour.
Carefully ripping off the plastic wrapping,
it is laid bare- clean and untouched.
She runs her hand across it’s surface,
the texture of the primed canvas,
an invitation to attempt something;
the act more often important than the outcome.
Beside it lays the piece of glass that is her pallet,
with it’s long edges covered in
electrical tape that has
obviously seen better days.
She works the paint on the glass with her pallet knife,
carefully mixing colours,
ultramarine blue, mars black, titanium white-
their names a lullaby she sings to herself.
Pallet knife and brush in hand
She dips them into the paint.
Holding the endless possibilities in front of her,
she touches the stark white canvas,
and waits for the magic to begin.