You can't saturate the wheel
In the colors of real life;
You can't always up the contrast
In your mother's loving eyes.
You can't play with the exposure
Of a blinding summer day;
You can't include the clover
Or the smell of drying hay.
You can't take the sound of falling snow
And post for all to see,
Or capture every icy rainbow
Shining from the trees.
You can't enhance the laughter
Of the two friends by your side;
You cannot crop the flying hairs
So that they lay just right.
So let the hues be slightly dull
Who cares if skin is clear?
Just take the days, appreciate
The lovely and sincere.
to eccentrics, dreamers and fools;
A toast to the deviants bending the rules,
To sleepless nights and weary heads,
To yellow stars and comment threads,
To grins and hugs and birthday cakes,
To masterpieces and mistakes.
to notes and listening ears;
A toast to conquering artist fears,
To photoshop, to pens and inks,
To terribly dangerous outgoing links,
To furry llamas and journal rants,
To doing a D.D. happy-dance.
to paint and pencil strokes,
That "Inactive Profile Deletion" hoax,
Commissions, critiques, collecting art,
To speaking your mind and spilling your heart,
To groups and chats and brand-new friends
Secluded environment, check.
Pretty scene, check.
Place to work, check.
All was perfect. Except-
Her art block. Alyssa grimaced as she stared out onto the beach. Having been stuck out here for over an hour, her frustration had hit a new high. She tapped her pencil on the sketchpad in her lap, leaving black dots on the clean white page.
This was not helping.
She tore out the page, scrunched it, and threw it to one side where it joined the rest of the discarded pile.
Okay, let’s try this one more time.
She squinted at the setting sun, her eyes tired and in need of rest. Over the caw of the seagulls and the sound o