A Painter's Thoughts About An Art Show
It’s approaching, coming near, my heart is racing,
Sweat beads all over my brow,
Got to think of which ones I want to enter,
Which are the ones to allow
To be seen in public, to be seen by peers,
To be seen, offered and sold to the throng,
Which ones do I choose to offer for sale,
Which ones will make me belong
To this crowd of painters, this crowd of artists,
Who shroud, paint, colour and cloak,
This crowd of peers who create from a blank,
A beautiful with every small stroke,
It’s approaching, coming near, my heart is racing,
For the town’s artistic lotto,
I hope I choose paintings that are good enough for,
The annual local art show.
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