Poetry

The Artist – Brooke Safferman

16 colored pencils lay before your handsthey are trembling with anticipation;

you are trembling with anticipation

 

a masterpiece waiting to be revealed

but you are the only one who can manifest it

and make it come to life with the power of your genius mind

 

the clock ticks on and suddenly you shake your head

there’s too much pressure to do the things that must be done

but the desire of making, of creating, of bringing to life, has begun to overtake you

 

dancing, your fingers are dancing as they slide the pencils across the page,

shapes and shades being formed by the colors of passion rather than that of the lead

I, too, originated as one of your masterpieces – and for that, I am forever grateful.

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