The Master Artist Poems Ending Because There Was No Room

--Ending of The Master Artist poem---- He worked for several days until one night when he was nearly through, His hands clapped together in delight and the bright pastel dust flew. Bright colors of pastels flew up into the night sky; the colors iridescent. Magenta Mars and pastel stars shone down upon his nighttime creation The Master knew he was almost through and he was filled with elation. His mighty canvas seemed stagnant and he blew hard upon the dust The pastels swirled and his pastel world seemed to twirl with the gust. He stroked his beard, nodded and then painted what had been missing. Red ochre and flesh tones of two people, then an apple they had wrested From the tree that he had painted last—for on the seventh day he rested. Diane Caudle