Val Drew wonders why the painter’s palette is absent of color…

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when i was a child
you told me plainly
“i will paint you
the sun.” and i
craved that warmth.
then you said
“after i finish
the stars, my dear.”
and will you
ever finish the
stars? i see
you, highlighting
the ursa major
endlessly with your
brush, after i grew
up, after years,
no yellow on
your palette.
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