"A Painted Dream"
Manfred Schölzel, 2025

 

In a quiet town, so small, so bright,

a boy was born to chase the light.

He saw the world in shades so bold,

but found no peace in stories told.

 

Sunflowers swayed in golden fields,

his brush would give them life to feel.

But in his mind, the thunder cried,

a battle no one understood inside.

 

Starry night, a painted dream,

where the world feels soft and free.

Every stroke, a tear, a sigh,

but his art will never die.

 

He searched for love in wine and days,

but loneliness would never fade.

His letters whisper through the years,

to Theo, written in his tears.

 

Sunflowers swayed in golden fields,

his brush would give them life to feel.

But in his mind, the thunder cried,

a battle no one understood inside.

 

Starry night, a painted dream,

where the world feels soft and free.

Every stroke, a tear, a sigh,

but his art will never die.

​

They called him mad, a man undone,

but through his hands, the colors run.

Now his name will never fade,

his echoes live in light and shade.

 

Starry night, a painted dream,

he gave the world his soul unseen.

Through the years, his colors shine,

Vincent’s heart—forever alive.

​