the boys can offer you, I’ll take my turn.
The arts that fill your day are my concern:
the frosty morning Turner on your wall;
the noonday warmth in every verse you learn;
the evening wreathed in Chopin’s last nocturne;
my works contain the talent to enthral.
For what are lengthy days if they lie fallow?
A life bereft of art is hardly living –
refreshment meagre, meditations shallow.
I offer beauty
– paramount, life-giving.
Art begets art. Compassion
breeds.
You’re hungry. I got what you really need.
AWB
(image credit: Celeste,
Random Colours)
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