Terry D. Sutherland

THE PAINTBRUSH

The paintbrush in his hand
Was a pen with rainbow ink
He wrote with a fiery brand
Words to make one think

Colored words spilled on white
Their own story to be told
Each and every word so bright
A mystery starts to unfold

Each colored word has a sound
The gentle sound of mist and rain
The roar of an angry crowd
The whisper of wind across the plain

The paintbrush in his hand
Was a pen with rainbow ink
Coloring rhythm of a marching band
Both azure blue and baby pink