Dear Theo

Dear Theo

Dear Theo, the artist in me longs
To render prussian midnight, bright
Stars scintillating in Arles skies 
In silence molten skies reply.

Suffice this much: my paints  tonight.
The fields that sing, ah, this twilight!

I’ll trudge through this dark chilly nox
And suffer no more demons spite
Walk towards distant music that 
In my veins throbs, Rhonê’s wheat fields ripe!

A work of art I shall create 
Vincent, dream, artistry’s your fate!
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Mumtaz N Khorakiwala
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