Come, gently, come closer,

Face me squarely and be my muse.

My love for you is no longer news

Yea, it is the music of love-

That has prompted me here
With my palette and gear.

I bury my brush in my palette, softly

And swing it to the canvas, swiftly

And succinctly, I make beautiful strokes

Impressing you, raising your hopes-

That the final work will astonish you

Like a hoax.

But nay, I art a fraud,
Never having consulted art’s drawing board.

The price of apprenticeship, I can’t even afford

Cloaking these in lies, you took my word

That I was a lord

Lording it over this sacred art

Immortalizing nobles, ladies and dukes

Marking trifles that resemble their looks.

Nay still, I shall not undeceive you

Rather, stay still and keep that smile;

Feel at home- my studio, your castle

Have faith as my strokes pile.

Until you tangle me in truth’s lasso,

I remain your Pablo Picasso.

Written by Clinton Durueke

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