Houses were easy to draw,
With a door and four squares.
Smoke from the chimney was
Always a curly telephone cable,
Curtains were spotted butterfly wings.
Each line had an absolute simplicity.
Each blot was confident in its
Placement.
Painting and drawing were easy.
Confidence oozed from my fingers,
Certain that I could represent
A house on my page.
Years later I had to
Pick up the brush again.
O Level Art was a chore.
In drawing, the rubber was used
More often than the pencil.
I struggled to represent the detail,
Doubting my strokes and dashes.
Gone was the innocent eye,
The naïve gullibility of a child.
The beautiful simplicity was lost.
Keith Robert Stewart has been writing poems since childhood (1970s?!) and has recently plucked up the courage to read publicly and submit for publication.