Franklin
Franklin was not satisfied
This was autumn, but he wanted it to move
It did not seem finished
He slept on it
Not hopeful.
His eager muse danced into his dreams
And took over, showing him
How to make it dance and prance
How to make the leaves sparkle and twinkle
He watched carefully
Was it the soul of his great grandfather? Another artist?
Was it an Old Master? Franklin knew not.
However, he understood the next morning
How to finish autumn
It opened to rave reviews
How did you get the leaves to dance? He was asked
He wisely kept his inspiration to himself,
Understanding how fast people can turn on even their closest friends
If they feel you are in possession of the devil’s work
or some such nonsense.
As a reward, his muse gave him more instructional dreams….
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