The Senses of a Paintbrush

My poetry project for a class that I actually like. I love art, even if I was just talking about an ordinary paintbrush, I was radiant of excitement.

With a stroke of red
A dash of blue
A tint of yellow
creating the secondaries of each
of those three colors
intermix by the keen
and utilized brush’s tip
feeling as if they were
unused and untouched
The cloudlike brush was fleecy
and the smell that can bring back
ancient memories,
With such caution and value
I lay it onto my warm palm
and between my fingers
hearing a small click
against my dainty fingernails
I can feel the smooth ridges
while I flick the brush
onto my canvas paper
Traveled down from generations
to generations
it never seemed to wear out
That was the beauty of the paintbrush

Author's Note

I'm still new to poetry so some constructive criticism would be helpful :)

Reviews

[alifeacoustic]

And so you should, like that is. The great thing about writing is it can be about anything and everything you want it to be. Love, relationships, life, a toothbrush, a kids bright coloured glove left on a railing, anything.
The fact you managed to get so much from a simple toothbrush, with its primary colours, ridges, texture etc shows the spark is always there, never turned off.
Thank you for sharing. I will look forward to seeing more of your work.