I took a line for a walk but got lost in the margins.
At the Palais des Arts, I don't hold a candle
To a single luminary or oriental lantern.
Where's the blue horse, where's the blindfolded boy,
John Singer Sargent?
Crouching, crawling, scrawling on the canvas
Just throwing paint at the problem,
And every child is supposed to be an artist!
Where is the blue horse, where is the blindfolded boy,
John Singer Sargent?
Inspirational poetry, written from the heart and soul. Verses that are well-suited for reading on a rainy day and that are guaranteed to bring a smile to your face.
Regis 🍁