
Roaming our sidewalks,
awry limbed shadow figures;
paintings no one sees.

Roaming our sidewalks,
awry limbed shadow figures;
paintings no one sees.

Roses have returned:
winter showers didn’t drown them
nor my pruning kill.

Keen on realism
nature, a budding artist,
world is her canvas.

Though cold we linger
mesmerised by sequences—
bee and passer by.