A Painters’ Day
Like knights donned in white, they fill the room with colour strong and bright.
Ragged faces tell tales of woe, but with steady skilful hands cutting-in as they go.
Rollers primed they bend their aching backs to deliver the colour attack.
Walls & ceilings now looking new as the artisans run the colours through.
Whistling, singing in their laborious tasks.
Is that the second coat the customer asks?
No comes a defiant reply, “we’re not cowboys, we have to let the first coat dry!”
With sanding block and scraper in either hand, busily they scrape and sand.
The job I hear one painter exclaim, is all about hard work and until you feel your hands in pain.
Plumes of dust rise in the air as the painters clean and brush the surfaces with care.
In the centre of the room lay paint, tools and assorted gear, leaving working areas free and clear.
Dust sheets spread neat and wide job kept clean with professional pride.
No paint splashes or debris is left behind, just neat blocks of colour with sharp cut painted line.
Wall & ceilings wearing fresh colour in delight.
Doors, frames and skirting gleaming, shining bright.
This is a tale of a painters day?
Hard work and skilful they pack their paint and tools away.
Some pretenders say they do it for the money and bounce the job in a hurry.
But the real painter is a skilled artisan who with pride running through every sweated pore completes the job professionally once more.
Their job is not to ask the reasons why it’s to paint then slowly fade away and die😆😆😆😆😆😆😆😆😆
Poem by Mark Williams