Art begins with
And the stroke of a brush
It continues with desire…
But what else?
Art is a craft of knowledge
A neighbor to people who need it.
Late Summers Day
I feel the light breeze against my cheeks,
The misty air against my legs,
The last sliver of sun disappears,
It gets cold,
Wishing I had brought my sweater along like ma said,
I wrap my hands around me trying to keep warm,
I feel the soft sand below me,
I see the dark sky above me,
Will I ever feel this way again?
I feel the scent of spring coming in,
I see the sky turn from a dull gray to an eye piercing blue,
I feel the world around me turn from tired and unrested to happy and energetic,
The cheery blossoms bloom,
While the sun shines down upon them,
I am awaiting spring,
It has finally arrived.
Age 13, Grade 7