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