As the sun leaves the sky
And the day turns to night,
I face a blank canvas
And paint whatever comes to mind

Sometimes its a picture that may almost look real,
But more often than sometimes is a mixture colors
Blended in such a way that portrays what I feel,

Acrylic, oil, or watercolor
All serve the same purpose,
  Regardless of the medium the piece will be like no other
As I cover every inch of the white surface.

Whether it gets completed or not
Does not matter for that's not the point,
Only what was able to be produced
And on the canvas I was able to anoint.

But soon the moon says goodbye,
And the sun once again begins to rise
And as the paint begins to dry
I realize I have met my untimely demise.