This paper is due friday?! I'll write a relatable poem:
Van Gogh
Stars shine in ethereal globes
as cypress trees reach to touch them.
A wind ripples the sky into circles
while the village goes to sleep.
Somewhere close by, the morning sun
will rise over a peasant in a field
and turn the wheat to a golden fire
as the crows flee to a cooler blue sky.
The people are real; heads down
and bodies heavy after a long day.
They sit in the brown room,
eating their brown food.
And his dreams float around the space
in vortexes of color and light
intruding on their peaceful loneliness
and making visions out of portraiture.
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