Before it was Painted Over

I am uncertain if it was supposed to be art,
at least not when it began.
More an intresting blot without a message,
an expression of what was missing,
something to fill the darkeness,
a conversation between two artists
content to let the paint run
and see what came of it all, never expecting
to fine love and life and a stone certainty,
a coming together before others,
seeing none of this, painted it over.
Neater perhaps,
but utterly lacking in life.

About this poem

Sometimes the world takes the most wonderful things from us. So about love, friends, situations, faith. Poetry is never about one thing.

The photo was taken in Asbury Park, NJ, on the side of an abandoned building. It was years ago and I have no idea if it is still there. I hope it is.

Tom