How many times I stood
I like stand now
gazing into the mirror
but I cannot paint that picture
You asked me to
Of that little girl I used to be
The blue of innocence,
Like kites in the sky
little princess
Your weakness.
How many ever times
I tried with the brush
In my trembling fingers
I could not find the right hues
the yellows of laughter
the abandoned brown
Of the my naked pains
The orange of the tears
The purples of failed love
The crimson of wandering lust.
Not once but I stood
Many a times liked you begged
Me to draw myself
in sketches, like a mother maybe
The grays of the Wisdom
The red of the torn womb
The bronze of the bosom
The silver of the dreams
You bought for me
From near and far
Even the twinkle of the star,
Failed and left the mirror alone
But to return again and again,
Not to disappoint you my father
To paint my self portrait
Reshma Ramesh
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/self-portrait-27/
