Gracias, Mr. Charcoal painter
You have kept me sane
You have kept me warm
For a really long time
Your hands are like those of a charcoal painter’s
Said someone snuggled in your arms
You are not a common painter
With pencil, broad palette, and canvas
You are a brooding man of rare breed
With ambition, passion, and skill,
To sketch a vulnerable human life
In grey, but in mainly black and white
You are a seer, and a Stranger
often driven to despair
the artist within you shall embrace
Literature and cinema some day
Hey Mr. Charcoal Painter
I wish you are destined
to make it to small land
reserved for the godly and the greats
Almost everything has been said
something frivolous yet remains
Could you hide my wounds?
with your skillful charcoal shades
Gracias, dear charcoal painter
I have got some premonition,
so, before your go, I bid thou
good luck, and So long...
