An Artist Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

She has not engaged a hand, cannot call that her thrift
It’s a delight doing it herself, to give her home a facelift.
Armed with brush and color, seizing time from her chores
She gets engrossed in the pastime, painting windows and doors.
It’s the festive season, she loves its smell in the air
I love the smell of fresh paint, her labor I don’t share.
She looks a dainty artist, colors on hands and face
Her eyes lit up in creative joy, beaming in happiness.
To partake in that graceful sight, when beside her I stand
She asks ‘why watch me idly and not lend a helping hand’!