The one true thing

Was to sing

Out on the flutter of a dragonfly’s wing

It would always just do its thing

Bright bursting joyous gifts to bring

All I want to do is sing

Ring dinga ding dinga dinga dinga ding

And then there’d be other days

When from some darkened haze

With tones out of dark blue and greys

The artist’s mind so often strays

To deepened thought of words ablaze

Divine essence to which one prays

A true thing that once is found

Can always bring the artist round

Colours come at once then go

Dancing about in a merry show

Changing here and bouncing there

Ever under the painter’s stare

How could it be at once so free,

That very artist is really me?