The Bed

In the bed one is supposed to sleep.

To read, perhaps, make love, and dream.

But what if, to me it is more? Like a raft out to sea. And I am with my paintbrushes on the bedside table, and the carpet is the rough waves, and the chest of drawers ahead of me, is, is the shore line.

And the paintings I make

in bed

Are level to my mind’s eye, the view is easier, more accessible to use, copy, create, down on a canvas that lies along Egyptian sheets, soft, warm covers and blankets and

This woman lying in bed, is not me.

She uses the bed well.

For I have ensured it so.

This soft pastel artwork is for sale. Please enquire.