The Great Artist

When he walks the city streets
In the days and the nights
Oh, how his mind wanders.

When he lays his head back
Arms folded, holding it
With eyes wide open,

He’s pondering

Even when grabbing forty winks,
He never fails to dream.

They say he’s just a lazy wannabe artist
But no one sees he’s busy all the time
Amassing information for a masterpiece

Which can only be mastered by time. ©
Written by UnControlled Pen