The Art of One

Upon my desk of wood I find
A faded vision within one mind.
To feel and taste the art of one
Paint fresh the scene before the sun.
Stroke fast the feather of the brush
And paint of skies of morning's blush.
Dip light the ink of blackened dusk
And write a tale of broken trust.
Fly upon the paper spun
Draw the lead of visions won.
Cut the ribbons that lightly flow
And paste them to a maiden's bow.
Bind them 'round her slender waist
That shows her glowing, tender grace.
Her eyes are light, yet glowing dim
For there is something she hides within.
And pencil in her thoughts of woe
Of thoughts so dark, or white as snow.

As the picture folds in stories...

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Perhaps a little explanation would be best for this one...
This poem recalls the memory of someone finding a piece of art upon their desk made by another artist. The fourth line goes into almost an imperative speech, as if the person is in the artist's mind. It speaks of the background scene, the skies and such. Then it goes into more detail: The slender girl with the ribbons. This piece of art is actually a tale of hidden secrecy and in a way, it is dark. At the end, the person leaves the mind of the artist, while the artist lets you finish the story.
Anyways, this is just a little something to feed your minds...

-Leah