by The Cowl Editor on November 4, 2021


a person painting flowers
Photo courtesy of

by Taylor Rogers ’24


The rainbow is lazily scattered on my hands, 

Reminding me of my past actions.

Its prominent hues contrast with my tanned skin, 

Standing out like patches of blue sky peeking through a lush, green forest.


Like my hands, my canvas is also stained, 

Attempting to display my emotions. 

From yellows brighter than dandelions 

To purples deeper than eggplant, 

My feelings are creatively strung together. 


In shock, I stare my painting down, 

Unable to decipher my own feelings.

For some reason, I feel like a piece of the puzzle is missing, 

Skillfully hiding on my palette of colors.


I fail to find inspiration from my hand, 

Despite its many colors. 

Glancing at my paints, 

All I can see is a giant question mark, 

And no interesting ideas. 


Lazily, the wind plays with my hair, 

Urging my small eyes to look away from my art.

Two ebony eyes glance up,

Desperately searching their surroundings. 


Colors far more diverse than my paints embrace me, 

Eagerly clinging onto my canvas and me.

With a grin larger than the Cheshire cat’s, 

I pick up my paint brush,

And begin to paint the new range of hues.