An atelier, her small world
Dawn's begun, it's time to work
What do Muses have in store?
She walks with shirt and nothing more
Closer to the easel, brush in her hands
Nothing concrete is in her plans
She listens to the song of morning
With ideas slowly forming
She mixes paints, breathes them in
Such beauty just ought to be a sin
Hand dances on the canvas blank
A ballet of the highest rank
Possessed by gods, she paints and paints
Power surges through her veins
Fix imperfections, a final stroke
From trance she suddenly awoke
Two steps back, sharp eye of a critic
Mind that observes, an analytic
And when she's happy, she sits on the ground
Just looking and looking, not making a sound
In her mind's eye, she feels his embrace
Melancholic smile, tears on her face
She painted for him, though he can't see
"A one for the future, for him and for me"
Jan 18, 2022
Jan 18, 2022 at 6:47 PM UTC
An atelier, her small world
Dawn's begun, it's time to work
What do Muses have in store?
She walks with shirt and nothing more
Closer to the easel, brush in her hands
Nothing concrete is in her plans
She listens to the song of morning
With ideas slowly forming
She mixes paints, breathes them in
Such beauty just ought to be a sin
Hand dances on the canvas blank
A ballet of the highest rank
Possessed by gods, she paints and paints
Power surges through her veins
Fix imperfections, a final stroke
From trance she suddenly awoke
Two steps back, sharp eye of a critic
Mind that observes, an analytic
And when she's happy, she sits on the ground
Just looking and looking, not making a sound
In her mind's eye, she feels his embrace
Melancholic smile, tears on her face
She painted for him, though he can't see
"A one for the future, for him and for me"
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