THE PAINTER.
He sits on his stool
with a far away look in his eyes.
Contemplating.
There forever it seemed.
The eyes shift.
Forehead a frown.
Sigh!
He picks up his brush and dips
into the black.
Stops. Scratches his chin
Leaving a smudge on his skin.
He swipes the brush over the blank surface.
He becomes impatient.
Stands, grunts, dips the brush again
Into the red
And throws it at the canvas.
Turning his back and walks away.
Disgruntled.
Stops and turns.
A smile creeps over his face
He ambles back
Takes his seat and continues to paint
And he is once again lost in his Art.
