The Amalgam

From the amalgam of many a subpar thought, a painter envisions a beautiful painting.

On a blank canvas
On a rainy day
Much more I fuss
Than things I have to say

There was a thought
At the back of my mind
Forward the thought I brought
Only to lacking it find

From the conveyor belt of thoughts, I picked another
It turned out to be commonplace
I chose a different one, like a boat without a rudder
In my mind, only plebian thoughts race

I cropped one from the top
Another, I cut at the bottom
A third I in the middle did chop
And joined them all like a medley of colors in autumn

I trimmed and joined many a thought subpar
To create a thought quite interesting
I could see a painting taking shape in the future not far
Borne on fancy’s swift wing