Thursday, 14 June 2012

Empty skill

If there ever was an artist
Then he was surely one
He would paint such wonderful beauty
With a stroke of his brush had begun

Sitting in an empty field
Painting on a canvas of nothing
When out of no where
She came by to inspire him

He followed her movements
He watched as she stood still
She did not notice him
He was captured by her image

She was tall and had skin of fair
Her hair was burning red
Her long coloured dress
She wore so well with care

His artistic blood was filled with love
She passed by closer to him
He wondered had she noticed
What he was doing

He casually went along
With what he was doing
At first she had no way of knowing
He had been watching her
Painting her glowing features

As she stopped to fix her shoe
She caught him
She was curious
Asked him what was it he was doing

She then walked behind
She smiled
All she seen was an empty field
On his canvas of love
Then one day as she walked into a gallery
There it was on a wall of white
The empty field was no more
She was the centre piece of love

He walked up behind her
And asked her what did she think
She turned and smiled
As his heart began to sink

She answered I knew that it was once empty
Now you have giving it life
Holding hands
In love all over again
As man and wife

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