Artist ‘Strokes

As I scaled you through my pen,

I can’t imagine how a masterpiece shall be made.

When I started my strokes,

I never expected that it will present beauty from an artist’s hand.

With every line I drew,

Love blends with every hue.

With every strokes I made,

Shines beauty in every color I had laid.

Love has been an inspiration for an artist’s hand,

Whenever the brush on a canvass had to land.

Yet colors in a canvass may fade through time,

But love will never go because I know it’s mine.

Still an artist will be the master for its art,

But love will always give inspiration, its leading part.

And when the artist had to retire from his work,

And took the moment he wanted to acquire.

While he sits on the couch by the hearth-side,

Thinking of true love that he desires.

Not a canvass to him could donate,

Nor the brush strokes could create.

Now the artist had to pray,

That his masterpiece will come to reality one day and say:

“ Here am I my maker, no longer in tones of sepia and clay.

No longer of colors made by your fantasy,

With dazzling backgrounds of beautiful scenery.

I am here to bring both love and pain,

So that the art of love will forever remain…”