All good things come to those who wait

We can sit, we can delay

This form of art takes days-

Days to form

Days to perfect

We have time to bide

The clock has been checked

The work pours from the paintbrush

It

Falls

Into

Place

But now it runs

It runs down the canvas

The art has started a race

The paint is barely viscous

We rise with the sun

We run, run, run

But it is too late

Time and tide waits…….for no one.