A Masterpiece of Pink and Green
Let me explain of how it came to be,
That a Prince of Leafs such as I, came to love a simple castle maid, with just one glance of the eyes.
It is a tale that will draw long,
So please bear with me, as I tell it.
It began with a frosty winter morning,
When I was but a lad of mere ten and three.
It flowered when a young girl was presented to me…
Let me tell you something about I,
I am considered something of an artisan from far and wide.
They say I have a gift that must be honed,
That hands and eyes such as mine must be allowed to do what they do best.
This was how, by this encouragement, that my father did not oppose of me becoming what I am today.
A master of arts in a range of varieties,
From painting to sculpture and all sorts of other oddities.
This, in my opinion was better than being King,
That was an honor, I had passed on to my younger brother.
But enough about me,
This story lies with someone else.
My gift, that I received from a land of far away, once ago one chilly winter day.
She was something that puzzled me,
For she was as different, as one could imagine different could be.
…Now I am slipping much to far ahead,
Let's trail back, and I'll explain, of why, in the first place, she was given to me…
---
By the time I began my summers as a young man, I was already known as a talent that could not be denied, and I say this as modestly as modestly will allow, of course.
My works hung on gleaming walls, of any palace you could imagine,
There was not a sole Kingdom in the world that did not recognize me.
But lets just say that for all the talent I possessed,
The same went for the way I could make a mess.
Paints, oils, brushes, and fine layers of dirt,
I supposed you could call my studio a dirt trap.
On the evening that I turned a another year,
Although this one was more symbolic since it was my thirteenth summer,
My greatest rival presented me with a beautiful flower.
He pushed her towards me,
Although gently,
And told me that she would liven my quarters,
And of messy havoc keep them empty.
In that great ballroom where my festivities were held,
Was where I first set eyes upon that girl.
She had been dressed in a pale robe of green,
That accented her hair.
It was most peculiar color,
And at once my mind began to think up ways to mix up such a pigment.
But it was her eyes that caught me off guard,
They were a shade of that I had never encountered, although the color was not in any way not ever seen.
I at once understood that she was not being given to me as a maid,
But to be taken as a challenge.
My rival,
Who indeed matched me,
Wanted a battle,
And this girl was the challenge.
---
I at once learned that she did not speak,
But did know that she was five and three.
I dressed her in a robe of deep red,
And drew that and her figure.
Her hair was my next quest,
Although it was only the beginning.
It took me hours to mix the colors just right,
To get the shade that I desired.
But when it came down to coloring her hair,
I realized that something was not right.
Nothing that I mixed held a candle to her,
Her hair was something else, and then some, and some more.
I decided to leave it so for then,
And move on to her eyes, which were the feature on her that I liked the best.
The same story repeated,
And so I called it a night.
Deep in my thoughts on how to draw the girl,
I'm sorry to say I forgot about her,
And left her in the room for the whole night.
---
The morning next,
I woke up, grim and ashamed,
I had realized my mistake.
Without taking the time to dress,
I threw on my robe and ran down to my studio.
Last night had not been one of my most intelligent moments,
I had left a human being,
A little girl,
To the clutches of the horrors in my lab of art.
I wondered how she had fared the night,
As I ran down flight by flight.
Finally I reached there,
The place that I had abandoned my unnamed present.
And turned the knob,
To press against,
And scanned the room for it's last night's guest.
I found her in one of my chairs,
A comfy one,
Covered with blankets of cotton.
My eyes widened at the sight,
This was a better work than what I had tried to create last night.
And so, with haste,
I set upon,
To draw the figure before me.
But then realized, I,
With wide eyes,
That the room was not the same.
It was clean to say the very least,
And organized in ways I could never have imagined so.
It must have been the work of the girl sleeping so calm on my chair.
With a slight smile,
I set upon my task,
To draw the girl, with her eyes closed,
And hope and prayed not to repeat last night's fiasco.
But just as the moment I picked my brush,
Those green eyes set out to open,
I sincerely hoped that this wouldn't happen much.
---
Corny! Corny! Ewww!
-cf-