Half-Done

Half-Done 

The rock that holds my frame, 

The same.

The paint on my canvas 

Is not stretched thin,

As the colors forge my beauty.

My sin.

The notes creating my song,

My wrong,

Comes to a break,

And the melody pause,

For a breath to take.

Conductor stands still,

But there's no mistake.

Just unfinished art.

I wait backstage 

Before my part.

A map with unknown seas to chart.

A palette with brand new colors to mix,

Create,

To fix,

Relate,

She picks up the pen

Because it's not too late.