Lauren Mehrberg | Fine Art Glass Mosaics



This poem was written by my 12 year old son, Jeremy.  It relates to my art in a way that I could never have expressed as eloquently.


Color is a flittering lark,
with scales of every hue.
Each tint,
a sentiment

Each feather drifts down,
a petal,
gingerly lands in the mind,
and blooms in the soul.

Vibrant scarlet of love and passion,
pale azure of misery and woe,
rich violet of royalty and confidence,
radiant orange of liveliness and warmth,
luminous yellow of caution and safety.

Each morn,
color soars over the world,
changing the dismal grays of the evening
into the charismatic scale of chroma,
illuminating the world.

The Sun’s rays,
on the heel of Color-
swooping through boulevards,
and darting past the gardens
of Asters and Hydrangeas,
and dashing through parks of ash and birch trees,
and navigating past elaborate statues
that have been disheartened by shadow.

Night ushers an epoch of shadow,
until Color brings the sun once again.

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