I used to Paint

I used to paint with colors that sang, the brush a dance of sunlight, sweeping skies of azure and fields of blooming joy. Each stroke, a whisper, capturing the laughter of leaves, the soft sigh of daybreak, until the canvas breathed its own vibrant life. But time slipped through my fingers, and now the palette lies still, a forgotten treasure, its hues waiting, like old friends, for the touch of a hopeful heart.