Why is it so hard to express one’s self
To paint a picture, to write a story
We all wish that the work would do itself
Only some masterpieces get glory
When I spot a garden all in a bloom
Thoughts of beautiful art go through my mind
Intricate fabrics woven on a loom
Speechless I am, the words so hard to find
To walk through a forest is quite peaceful
Mind cleared of thoughts, never felt more alive
Times like this cause you to long for an easel
The trance is broken as others arrive
Cannot compose without inspiration
Absence of feeling means no creation