With lead and wood, a plain sheet and mind
The Painter starts to work,
Applying the instrument to his canvas
Creating circles, lines, and curves
And using the right amount of thought
The canvas reveals a newborn child
Sleeping in the arms of a mother
But the Painter thought it could be more

The Painter extends to a new sheet
Ready to attack with wooden instruments
With each utensil applying a new color
He makes his canvas flourish and shine
With the aid of red, blue, and yellow
Now shows the image of a child
Surrounded with imagination and wonder
But the painter thought it could be more

The Painter removes his wooden masters
And finds friendship with a brush
Which dips into the dark lake of ink
He delicately apply more effort
Into the details of his new canvas
Presenting not quite a man but similar
Looking at the world with ideas and lust
But the Painter thought it could be more

Knowing this shall be his best creation
The Painter turns to his new idea, paint
A mixture of ink and color in a bowl
He creates vibrant colors and beauty
Along with courageous potential
Flourishes a man with fame and pride
Loved by everyone, inspiring to all
But the Painter thought it could be more

The Painter questioned his works
His style needs a new direction
Distributing a blend of chalk and paint
He creates odd figures, in shape and style
Streaming with all colors and variants
The canvas appeals to the man growing
Now representing intelligence and wisdom
But the Painter thought it could be more

The Painter accused himself, justified,
It must be a simpler style, not complex
Reaching back for his wooden utensils
Passionately, he creates with awareness
Applying more detail than ever before
He reveals an old man sitting in a chair
Expressing to children his wisdom and love
But the Painter thought it could be more

Now the Painter is angry, no furious
His frustration grew intensely with no control
He yelled, screamed, and shouted
He started to tear his canvas, rip his sheets
He destroyed his instruments of beauty
And with one final look at his canvas
At what seems to be the old man pleading
The Painter knew it could be no more