I wade through his sulken eyes
His brush increasing the weight of my charm
Inch by inch I’m stroked from side to side
Being the future art holds no harm
When finished, covered and neatly spread
Finally opened, in a gallery, for a price
Strangers exposing my secrets as they read
“Extraordinary, abstract, strange or nice.”
Down below, I hold my master’s name
I’m hanged on to the Royal walls
Admirers, critics and whomsoever come
Should falsely admire me or gather his fall

For he who painted me was the Giant of all
For he who bought me was the Giant of all

©2010 Sapan Shah. All rights reserved.