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I saw her walking through meadows sweet, Amidst wildflowers of various sun kissed hues, She appeared to be floating on her feet, rising towards the sky’s, beautiful blues. Enthralled by her beauty and gentle grace, I invited her to be my creative inspiration. The thought of capturing every inch of her face onto canvas, filled me with great joy and elation. The sun danced on her features, a vision to beguile as my brush strokes portrayed her beauty fair, Lost in my painting reverie by her engaging smile, I’d never painted with such panache and flair. Her aura filled my room, as she sat in her elegant pose, Smiling encouragingly at me as I worked on her portrait. Though as the time passed, she slowly wilted like a rose, Her eyes dulling, her skin turning grey at an alarming rate. Without ‘er a single sound, but as though she were dead, Her body slowly sank to the floor in a fit of fainting, My heart almost stopped beating with worry and dread. Had I by some magic, transferred her essence to my painting. Lifting her into my arms, in haste I ran to the meadow, Holding her close to my heart; my Nymph of flowers, Her complexion at once brightened, recovering her glow. Bidding her a sad farewell, I left her to recover her powers. Sad and ashamed I returned to my artist’s studio where her image had faded and no longer remained, By my own selfish act I had nearly struck her deathblow Such a magical essence could and should not be contained.



That's a different style to your usual! What a lovely little cautionary tale!!