The Painter's masterpiece

Summer’s here. As we at OfBusiness roast in the hot sun, here’s to when we enjoyed it on vacation and ploughed seeds for becoming what we are today: cherishing childhood.

The Painter’s masterpiece

At his exhibition, all remarked with awe –
Exulting at each one they saw;
Some said “The sailing ship” was best,
Others rated “The blind lady” above rest;
Some in which the colors were flying,
Others in which the thoughts were shying;

There amidst bravos he got,
Some asked which was the best he thought;
“My best ain’t painted yet –
My masterpiece will be worth its wait.”

That day on, he crafted in full earnest,
Creating some of the world’s finest;
He still believed they weren’t his best,
Waiting yet to paint his greatest;

Years rolled past, he was counting now,
Pressure to paint it was mounting now;
Came one day, he could wait no more –
Old age was washing his sight ashore;

In grief now, he passed each day –
Till he got a parcel wrapped one day;
No sender or stamp set –
Though one he could never forget;

It was a sketch he’d sketched –
His name and age in the corner he’d etched;
A smile flashed back on his face –
His grief sank without a trace;

He knew now that his masterpiece was made,
When he was all but five;
For to his heart it’d loudly said,
That he’d be the finest painter alive.