In the quiet room where dreams unfold,
A canvas waits, a story to be told.
Lines emerge like whispers in the night,
Guided by the heart, not by sight.

Colors blend in a symphony of hues,
Each stroke a note, a melody to choose.
The brush becomes an extension of the soul,
Drawing whispers of a world untold.

The shadows play, creating depth and form,
In the dance of light, emotions transform.
Every curve and edge, a silent song,
In the artist’s hands, where we all belong.

As the drawing nears its final state,
A masterpiece born from love, not fate.
In every line, a piece of heart remains,
Captured forever in the artist’s veins.