Open your eyes the alarm blurted,
Put it on snooze n my phone inverted.
Suddenly a loud sound shook me out,
Cursed my dad for his morning bouts.
It happened again and I rubbed my eyes,
This can't be my dad given his size.
Open your window and did so my hands,
Oh wow, Monday morning I'm treated to my favorite band.
A giant brush was twirling in the air,
Meshing it all with black with touches of white here and there.
Can only be an artist's work for the passion on display,
The gouache, the rhythm, the tone bring realism to the fray.
The water trinkets hang in the air,
As if to deny fun to the countryside mare.
Ahh that seductive aroma of the waiting earth,
Now Mr painter can't refrain from expanding canvas' girth.
Cometh down the dancing drops,
Circular,triangular,rectangular with no stops.
And soon they spread to where my eyes can run
Ohh what a show the artist has done,
I can't stop the urge to run out,
Be free, walk, dance, swim and when droplets reach lips, pout.
That child me is suddenly alive,
I run for my shoes and jacket and it's time to dive.
Suddenly I hear the dreaded sound,
It's deeper than a soldier's wound.
The reality kicks in , the freedom swishes away,
Time for donkey work in office fields and bray.
