The Artist

The Artist

Through summer days and winter nights
an artist blends his hues
then pauses as his dream ignites,
in greens, the reds and blues.

The easel is his shrine of peace,
in moonlight or sunbeams,
a place where time will never cease
like endless flowing streams.

His purpose is deliberate,
painting seems to heal
to rush is inconsiderate,
true art lay in the feel.

His craft is sharpened down the years,
his patience sometimes wanes,
a sacrifice of sweat and tears
but still the art remains.