I Talk To The Moon

The moon came visiting last night

While I play with brushes and tint

Tossing scraps in all directions

With gentleness it speaks to me

Of my volatile and erratic patience

I told the moon 

I can no longer paint!

The sharpness of my images

Resonates the unilluminated sky

With overcast in every page

In a forgiving manner

It responded that I keep the desire

To persist and to try 

There were moments of breakdowns

Moments of frustrations and lull

I have always been the kind 

Who hurries to see the outcome

I think of the moon and realised

To quit is not an option

Before the triumph is mine

- Ellen Lavilla