At the souk

Met her the painter oneday,
At a corner of a souk,
She was busy painting canvases
(Which she told me) to her dreams
As they her took,

Watched her for hours
Completely submerged in her works,
People like me as passed by her,
And she in her paintings at the nook
Created a world of wonders,

It had been a lovely day
Quipped I seeing her
and those canvases spread,
She was filling colors
Orange, blue, yellow, green , red,

I looked at her, standing awhile,
Quiet as a stone almost,
She was stroking on the canvas,
With brushes she drew a sea coast,

Right in front my eyes,
Under the sky bright and with Joys mixed,
I looked at her fingers
As they upon canvas did tricks,

The seas came to her,
So also the seagulls and other birds,
The hills came alive by her touch,
And roads made by her flew upwards,

The souk was a lovely place
People walked checking those shops,
Garments hung loose in the air,
And before her I momentarily stopped,

She sang as she worked,
Singing a beautiful tune,
And how I looked at her
Drawing deserts and sand dunes,

One after another canvases were made,
And they were kept there hanging by hooks,
I just stood quiet like a stone there
And tried to fathom what pleasure
Her it really took,

Just to there come and sit every day,
Right there at the souk,
I just looked at her works of art,
And wondered what passion her really took
To make so many lovely things,
Every day , every morn and Eve,

I just looked at her,
And into a painted day
I, a swim with ease took,
Right there oneday,
At the souk.

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