Grave Poem

The Painter,
With few more colours,
Brush, and few stains;
Bones and
Roses.

Rugged jeans,
Your art has left you
An immortal.
You breathed
Colours.

The beauty
Of the human mind
Dwell with colours
You saw
You gave.

These cracked walls
They would miss the strokes,
The gentle touch,
Beyond
Beauty.

Victor Oyedele