The Painter

A painter once waited day and night, for a beauty to arrive at his door Day after day when she did not arrive, he figured he'd wait one more Soon he grew weary, hopeless, and a little distraught For he still hadn't found the beauty he sought He set out on foot to lands far and lands wide To find this rare beauty for wherever she may hide He painted the valleys, the rivers, and fields All the cities, the buildings, the knights and their shields The men, woman and children were all painted too Provided they paid a few nickels or two He traveled wide and far; much time was spent To find the beauty for which his canvas was meant One day he came across a small town off a path He got a room to clean up and take a bath As he sat by the window pondering who she might be The beauty he so desired is what he did see He jumped and hollered, but she was just too far So he ran down real fast and jumped in his car Buckled his seat belt and sped off real fast Narrowly missing some people as he passed So focused on her, he ignores all the cries Swerves hits a pole, crashes and dies The beauty ignores him, and walks on by Not even batting an eye lash, or leaking a cry His obsession was too much, imperfection in everyone He found no beauty where there was none All the time searching and money he earned Only made him more hungry for what he yearned Beauty is found in every King, peasant or crook You can enjoy it if you take the time to pause and look