The Parchment

All I know how to paint are clouds and the sun
Today feels like a fresh canvas with fresh paints
So I'm nervous, petrified at the idea of painting

So many ideas I know won't make it out the way I want
It feels right in my mind
It feels right in my wrist

When I try real hard it feels right in my finger tips
To the tip of the brush
But it's wrong on the canvas

I've never done a canvas justice
Acrylics have only one colour
Failure

Success
I found a new way to colour
My words are like a full spectrum

It comes out right on the parchment
From the tip of my pen
All the way up to my mind it's what I wanted

It feels wrong in my wrist
It feels wrong in my mind
My ideas don't feel right until they've made it out

So I'm anxious, ecstatic at the idea of writing
Today feels like a fresh parchment with fresh words
And I don't know how to write about clouds or the sun