The artist's hands unshaken
lay fine the placid scene;
In colors rich of living soul
from boundaries unseen.
The stillness of existence
captured a single time,
Of one's unwritten memoir
lines of painted lines.
The beauty of the apple,
ruby innocence imposed,
Or oranges, rich of sweetness,
extravagantly posed.
Of many hand-made china,
or vases made of glass,
The beauty is the stillness
that can not be surpassed.
The artist's final stroke
is laid to paint the scene.
The moment's time, unbroken
stillness sets, serene.

From the title, I was expecting this to be something I would enjoy, but I did -










21 old applause
