The Artist Poem by Josephine J.W

Wandering across fields of white,
Strolling through flowering arbors,
Dancing out among the corn fields,
Gazing over the waters at the harbor

An artist chiseling a masterpiece
Upon the canvass white as winter;
His fingers prick against the shreds
Of his brush going to splinters

Stars twinkling above a silvery moon,
Footprints washed away by the sea,
A red rose pressed against a broken heart,
A lover treading softly over the lea

The artist's spirit soars to land's unknown
As he sketches the golden meadows;
Lost in the depths of sandy dunes
Easing the pain of sweet young widows

Clutching a velvet rose to his bosom
He sketches faces of those broken-hearted;
Smelling the bloody petals of the flower
As his own pain and loss is smarted

The broken-hearted artist
Painting things of beauty all around;
And while he sketches for our pleasure
From his lips is uttered a mournful sound

His broken canvass reduced to tatters,
No longer sweetly snowy white,
But on its dirty cover there's a beginning
Of a painter's masterpiece taking flight

And as the cuts on his fingers sting,
And his deep red rose begins to wilt,
A sweet little bird begins to sing,
And heals the wounds that were dealt

The artist's tears begin to flow
As he picks up his broken masterpiece
And while he remains forgotten to the world,
His broken heart is once again at peace.