When I was a little child

Before asleep I fell,

I used to like to chip away

with a little stick

at the wall.

On it I drew small houses,

trees, horses,

Little pig-tailed girls

With triangular dresses

And other pictures,

Born in the little girl`s mind.

At bedtime, my mum used check

The child`s hands,

But they were always empty.

Yet, in the morning,

when she her child woke up,

she discovered

a new drawing waiting on the wall.

Unbeknownst the blue-eyed blonde little girl

Used to find a new tool

For that art of hers,

But for long her own field she had

To paint those dreams of hers.

The years have passed,

The drawings of childhood

Are on the wall no longer.

Her stick the child replaced

With brushes, palette knives, and paints,

And yes, on canvases creates,

But the walls are also

still a great passion of hers.