I tried my hand, a new pursuit,
Brush to canvas, colours to fruit.
But strokes went wayward, hues askew,
Masterpiece in progress, not to construe.
Yet still I soldier on, mistakes persist,
For in clumsy strokes, I find my true gist.
In missteps and failures, growth can transpire,
The beauty in imperfection, my art to inspire.
With each stroke gone astray, I embrace the fire.
Burning bri...