The bristles of the brush
They feel like a magic wand.
The palette and tubes
Colorfully set to capture the hues.
Red, green, black, blue, white
And various shades from mixing them right.
A flower. A tree. A man. A
house.
The sky. The sea. The waves. The clouds.
I always used to paint in my mind.
But now I see them coming alive.
With therapeutic strokes,
One canvas at a time,
It's becoming an addiction,
And I want to forever feel this high -
The joy of bonding to what art is;
The happy smile from being called an artist.
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