I fell upon a man was working, painting on a fence;
these words were sprawled across the wood, intending great offense.
His bucket was but barely full, when asked of his intents;
he mentioned that they’d spelled it wrong, he thought to make its sense.
He covered letter one of these, and then he took a beat;
the drying paint dispelled the verse, improvement had commenced.
He began again, to thus prepend, and make the verse complete;
and, adding B to verse, we see, corrected its pretense.
He sat and stared at what he’d done, and pondered its contents,
considered, then, replacing all, with vivid colors, hence.
His buckets filled with paint, then, as for mural, thus immense,
his painting, then, began again, reflecting great suspense.
He worked for days, this painting spell, had given all he’d make,
and when he’d done, we sat for one, this beauty, did breath take.
Replacing, simply, letter one, was one place to, thus start;
creating something new, again, revealed his depth of heart.
The artists, lived within him then, amazed at what he’d done,
as from the souls of depth had won, this one work he had spun.
And to these efforts, all would stake, the beauty had begun,
and living souls could then begin, just living, just as one.
© 2020 Dayglow Black. All rights reserved.