The White Box (A bit of poetry for AMFC)

A plain white box sat atop a wooden frame,
Looked on by a man neither young nor old;
Its canvas nailed tight with a stretching hold,
The plain white box sat still and tame.
The man did not move, he was much the same
As the plain white box he did behold—
Yet upon him the still silence never tolled.
He would wait until his great spark came.

Hours they sat and days they spent,
Never to think and never to touch,
Nor bridge the gap between each other;
But when ageless time had come and went,
The man picked up a clever brush,
And then, suddenly, there was color.

Comments

[Axis of Rotation]

A nice little piece of poetry; what inspired you to write it? That picture you inluded? The AMFC? (whatever it is)