
Today, another brushstroke;
The artist poised,
With ever trembling pencil in his hand;
A rough, uneven canvas;
And so he sighs,
His strokes are like the shifting sand
Somehow the tones are different,
The picture wrong
The first intent somehow misplaced;
And though he tries with patience
He cannot claim
The lines which he first proudly traced
Lovely Ezra. I like the way you captured the frustration of unattainable perfection - something everyone can relate to in their own way in their own lives. My one thought is that in my head I always say "reclaim" rather than "claim" when reading your piece. Great job.
Nice job Bro!