I once knew an artist who painted each stroke
the most vibrant of shades, a sight to behold.
Every word told a tale, ink spilled from his pen,
His eyes saw the world through a different lens.
Each day he would sit and stare at her lines
and the way her hair would reflect the sunshine.
He would study each curve a meticulous way
as he slowly immortalized her in his clay.
His palette he used to romanticize
the shade of blue he used on her eyes.
She tried to remain ever so still,
a mute who could only witness his quill.
She would fix on his gaze and never release
while he created his latest masterpiece.
She had never known such passionate art
as the work he created from a bleeding heart.
But, one day he tired of painting alone
and softly asked, “why don’t you create on your own?”
Her mouth was agape and her face looked quite flush
as he reached and slowly handed his brush.
“But sir,” she replied, “how could it compare
to the skill you have shown in your artist’s chair?
Your talent abounds and shines from the page
How can I begin to take over the stage?”
He coolly replied in his comforting tone,
“My dear, you don’t have to simply clone.
The beauty of craft doesn’t come from technique
but straight from the heart, each piece is unique.”
He sat down beside her, and nudged in quite close
with his hand on hers, they started off slow
And jointly, at once, they helped to create
by starting out with their own clean slate.
Each one brought their heart and worldly desire
a stunning dance to witness transpire.
And from that day, they continued to grow,
the muse and her artist she couldn’t forgo.
