It was by a stream,

Sheltered from

A soon to be sunset,

That the artist stands

 

As the lady of Summer’s breeze

Lovingly caressed his cheek

Whilst the sounds of an engine -

From a steam train - sounds in the distance.

 

Yet the stream’s gurgle of rushing water

Sounded more like a loud sizzling -

Similar to a barbecuing steak.

‘Twas then that the artist eventually finished his work

 

Whilst his and his wooden assistant’s legs

Were ankle-deep in the water.

The painting was of a cheetah cub

Calmly purring on a bed of hay.

 

When it was time to depart, the female fey

Was quite disappointed, as if she wished him to linger longer.

The artist approved of her request to visit again,

 

Perhaps to paint her portrait

Thus the spirit of Summer’s breeze did smile

To which the artist became breathless at the sight

 

As the soon to be sunset’s light 

Brightly shone through the leaves,

Cutting a clean swathe through the umbrage,

It caused the Fey’s light green-gray hair to grandly glitter.

 

Within the artist, he felt a sense of inspiration and wisdom,

As if he had eaten a hazelnut.