If only I could, I would

I sat beneath a blue blanket, the big yellow ball was in the sky when minding my own business something brilliant caught my curious eye . An artist with her easel was sitting on a wooden stool so I moved a little closer and Oh boy how I did drool 

She held her pallette of pretty pastel paints firmly on her left hand as her fingers of fascination brushed fine strokes upon the stand, which was holding a huge colossal canvas covered with her clever creation, such a connoisseur of colourful craftsmanship from amidst her mind’s eye fixation

Golden glints garnished the glittery silky, silvery sand as she flipped her finer bristles with a flicker of her right hand . Then the sea that lapped her shoreline was the most beautiful cobalt blue with white frothy waves, what a wonderous view!! I stood up in absolute awe-struck amazement at this woman’s intuitive insight, this sensational seascape from her brush strokes was an unadulterated delight

If only I could be an artisan Oh how happy I would be, to accomplish picturesque scenery from sights that I did see . My walls would be prettily, plastered with my very own origination, vivid portrayals from beyond my inspirational imagination . Alas I can only dream, an artisan I am not, aren’t some people born so lucky when they are blessed with such a lot?