Recently I received an email from a great friend of mine in London, Sue Verney. Sue is a musician who plays violin, a poet and short story writer. I felt honoured to receive Sue's poem about one of my racetrack paintings, and I'm just as thrilled to share it with you.
After the silent gas cloud came
the empty racecourse looked the same.
But if not galloped upon or mown
how soon will it be overgrown?
Or without refreshment slake to dust
with shades of bone and sunburnt rust.