TheBurg

60 | theburg | 05.17 If I could paint, you'd be a glob of brown I'd add blues and greens to darken your hue You'd be scribbled with no shape and no form One couldn't tell your legs from your arms Your eyes would be yellowed and your heart in your feet When I'm done you'd be black as the street Scumbling would be my next technique I'd do it to hide what's beneath I'll call you Chameleon, that's what you are Upon closer inspection what's underneath will come into view Even if marked free no one would want you If I could paint you'd be a cool breeze You would sway to and fro and rattle the willow trees Your pale cool colors would fade away Just like the dawning of a new day First orange, then yellow then back again No matter how hard I'd try, your color wouldn't stay Fair well my friend As memories of you get smaller and smaller You would end up a dot on my page And in time, we would disengage If I could paint, you would be a glass of merlot colored wine Paper, cotton, linen, perhaps a mural on a wall Mixed media art, definitely big, not small I'd start with old gold You, near my heart, I would shape and mold Add royal purples, you would be regal and fine My love for you would stand the test of time You would be big, strong, and never sold Looking at you would never get old Bold strokes of black would accentuate your form And the stem of your glass would be a vast strong arm! If I could paint, you would never be complete I'd start with white then add a red tint Or, add a touch of white to dark green then you'd be mint I'd wrap you in softness, easy on the eyes e color of milk and billowy like the sky I would never sell you, your value is too high I'd cover and protect you from pain and danger You'd be my babe and I your mother To depart from you would be to die Like a chain, forever we are linked ere'd be two of you, similar but distinct If I could paint, rainy days would be great Boys and girls would be outside having fun ere would be no weapons, no guns I would paint big strong acorn trees, and kids with scrapped knees Row homes would be all around, An ice-cream truck would be coming down the street And little girls jumping double-dutch to a beat Children leaping up and down in the water plug ere would be acorn fights and lightning bugs Your colors would resemble a rainbow, they would ebb and flow I'd paint you big and place you out front for all to see When viewing you all anger and sadness would flee If I could paint . . . Angela Larks is a recent graduate and communications major at Penn State Harrisburg. iF i CoUld painT bY ANgeLA LArKS sorry sTorM bY ALeXANdriA FAZZOLAri the storm often dampens summer I apologize for sopping leaves harshly ripping through the woods fresh soil now bleeding mud onto ground once plush green no excuses for booming sounds echoing in the sky the gray horizon or the flashes of light blinding to man's eye but you will hear no hint of sorry for staying firmly rooted as the daytime sky reverses mirroring the blackest night and bark is ripped from my base towering in protection my branches hold my weight here I will wait Alexandria Fazzolari is an English major at Penn State Harrisburg. Periodically, eBurg features creative works by students at Penn State Harrisburg. In this issue, we include an essay and two poems.

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