Being a haphazard artist,

Wielding a paint filled brush.

Seeing objects with misty eyes-

Women I make to blush.

Amazed at abstract,

For it has beauty untold.

A few swirls of the brush,

Not ashamed to hang it up.

Love vibrant colors,

They leap off the canvas.

Give me those red and yellows,

And plenty of blue.

Not a poet, nor an artist,

But somehow I make do.

The only one I have to please,

Is the holder of the pen or brush.

But if someone should like my work,

I'm pleased as a cow giving milk.

And I thank all my readers,

Though they be but a few.