Impressions

As usual, up at the crack of dawn,

He walked to the pond, stifling a yawn.

As he gazed behind, the curtain of vines,

Plethora of colours, mesmerised his eyes.

Blues and greens, purples and pinks,

He hurried to get his colours and inks,

On the canvas, his impressions released,

Lo and behold, another masterpiece.