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Description

There once was an artist.
He lived in a street not far away.
To paint was his passion,
To bring life to the canvas
His deepest desire.

He was excellent at his profession
But no one ever saw his art
Once he had finished a painting,
He sat down in front of it
And gazed at it for hours and days.

His walls were covered in art
For he never sold his creations.
To simply enjoy their beauty was enough.
To admire the vivid composition
Of magnificently chosen colours.

So the artist lived for years,
Avoiding other painters, other humans.
Just as his pictures were windows to another world,
He was happy to observe them from his home.
Until the day someone knocked on his door.

As he reluctantly opened the wooden gate,
He could barely stand the vision in front.
Te strength left his body
And his brush loudly hit the ground.
Only because he saw her bright shining eyes.

As her tender mouth opened,
A voice as clear as a crystal tickled his ears
He responded in a robotic manner
And as she laughed in delight
Her velvet hair moved like the oceans tide

So they talked for a while and as she left
The artist was not even sure why she had come to his place.
But his body moved by itself
Despite the emptiness of his mind.
His work had begun.

Possessed by the thought
Of capturing her beauty
He drew for days and nights.
But it was impossible
No picture could do her justice

Disappointed he gave up.
He turned towards his normal work
But nothing could satisfy his hunger.
Now that he had seen her perfect face
There was no way to live without her

Four days he was laying awake
Unable to sleep, unable to eat
His eyes closed, imagining her picture
But not even that could do her justice.
Suddenly the sound of knuckles on wood.

Description

There once was an artist.
He lived in a street not far away.
To paint was his passion,
To bring life to the canvas
His deepest desire.

He was excellent at his profession
But no one ever saw his art
Once he had finished a painting,
He sat down in front of it
And gazed at it for hours and days.

His walls were covered in art
For he never sold his creations.
To simply enjoy their beauty was enough.
To admire the vivid composition
Of magnificently chosen colours.

So the artist lived for years,
Avoiding other painters, other humans.
Just as his pictures were windows to another world,
He was happy to observe them from his home.
Until the day someone knocked on his door.

As he reluctantly opened the wooden gate,
He could barely stand the vision in front.
Te strength left his body
And his brush loudly hit the ground.
Only because he saw her bright shining eyes.

As her tender mouth opened,
A voice as clear as a crystal tickled his ears
He responded in a robotic manner
And as she laughed in delight
Her velvet hair moved like the oceans tide

So they talked for a while and as she left
The artist was not even sure why she had come to his place.
But his body moved by itself
Despite the emptiness of his mind.
His work had begun.

Possessed by the thought
Of capturing her beauty
He drew for days and nights.
But it was impossible
No picture could do her justice

Disappointed he gave up.
He turned towards his normal work
But nothing could satisfy his hunger.
Now that he had seen her perfect face
There was no way to live without her

Four days he was laying awake
Unable to sleep, unable to eat
His eyes closed, imagining her picture
But not even that could do her justice.
Suddenly the sound of knuckles on wood.