Whence you look down
Upon your work with a slight frown
All I see
Is beauty
Flourishing in all its form

Through all your creative ways
Is perfection, once lost now found
Be it voice, hand and eye
This art wears a glittering crown

Concentration sketches itself
Like you sketch what you love
Upon your face,
Is all the grace
Blessed from high above

I admit a spot of jealousy
Runs a trickle of pain right through me
Whenever I see
This art done better than me

In voice, eye and hand
As beauty takes its final form
This preferred art that is your brand
Or with perfect voice you perform

A better art than mine,
Taken with a flourishing finish