The artist’s eye
Is a special thing
That’s very rare to come by
It’s not really a thing
I can call my own
But yet a friend of mine
Seems to be possessed
By an artist’s state of mind
His hand moves so gracefully
Over the paper smooth and fine
I get so lost in the drawing
That I cannot even find
Where the pencil meets the paper
And the paper meets the line
The drawing comes to life
As the morning sun does shine
I feel that without the artist’s eye
I am almost blind
For when I look at the world
I try to look behind
Every living beautiful thing
That only one can find
Within the wonder and complexity
That is the artist’s eye