Artist

A brush in hand, a canvas blank,
A mind at work, a heart full of rank.
Once an artist, now lost in time,
Once a master of his craft, now sublime.
A vision in his mind, a dream to chase,
But life got in the way, his art to replace.
The colors fade, the strokes grow weak,
His passion lost, his soul to seek.
His paintings gather dust, his brushes dry,
His talent wasted, his potential to die.
But in his mind, the visions still remain,
A masterpiece yet to be painted, a story yet to explain.
He walks the street, lost in thought,
A forgotten artist, his talent for naught.
But deep within, the spark still glows,
A lost artist, a potential yet to know.
Perhaps one day, he'll take up the brush,
And paint a masterpiece, a triumph, a hush.
For art is eternal, and so is he,
A lost artist, his legacy yet to be.