My brothers are quiet in their rooms
My imagination starts up and zooms
Things drift in my mind, by chance
leaving explosions of colors in a dance
Paper on the downstairs table comes to life,
the paintbrush carving across it like a color-filled knife
My brain is sending messages to my hand
a dream coming true, oh, how grand
The picture is alive, the colors stretching,
my hand never stops the sketching
The world outside is becoming smaller
as my picture comes to life with color
Paintbrush going back into the cup,
I will be a famous artist when I grow up.
A great poet wrote this, to speak in front of an audience, and I am in awe. Flawless truth, and as the poem says, painted across the page. I am honored to be able to feature it as my first poem from a guest poet on this blog. Oh, and by the way, she's only eight-years-old!