The canvas comes with roses,
beautiful, bright,
crimson roses,
shining in
moonlight.
An artist with a sharp brush,
a canvas pale as snow.
They drew
and drew
and drew.
Stroke after stroke
roses grew.
A once empty canvas
now full of
roses with white stems.
Tens turn into hundreds
as roses quickly grew.
Painting done,
the artist looks at their work,
Roses wilting
as fast as they came.
The artist cleaned up their canvas
to be ready for another day.