Give her a canvas for her delight
Give her a brush and watch her brush
To acrylitise every bit in her sight
Paint that flies, so bright and lush
An avalanche of water or oil
For this is pleasure, not toil
No corner left, each dab of joy
Not enough hours to enjoy
This ecstasy to make her faint
The sheer fun of producing Art from paint.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem