I see the face,
A crowded place
That tells of life,
Would indicate
A past so filled,
Yet but depicts
A slightest trace
Of puerile days,
To hoary layers
Of crinkly grace,
Time so risks take
What’s left to hold
That offers hope
For man so bold,
To skirt a while
His resting place,
And he not find
The face he’d known
Now buried neath
A senescent waste!
Poetry on a canapé 
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Not too often I can’t find the words, otherwise the writing that keeps me alive would be no more. However to respond to such accolades requires words of acceptance for achievements far more worthy than my humble poem of “The Face” for the claim you make and the praise you offer. In any event I thank you kindly for your thoughts, appreciation and support. I wish you well, and a happy life. JJF
You could definitely see your expertise within the paintings you write. The arena hopes for more passionate writers such as you who aren’t afraid to say how they believe. At all times go after your heart.