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Art

The hidden stuff,
Tucked away inside,
Now has nowhere,
To run and hide.

It finds its way,
To the canvas,
Wriggles in and
Tries to awe us.

Sometimes it’ll work,
Sometimes it won’t,
It might just happen,
Or it don’t.

An example might,
Be on this page,
And like wine,
It might get better with age.

Chances are,
It probably won’t,
But maybe you’ll get lucky,
And it will (even when it doesn’t rhyme,
Or fit the pattern)!





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