This was the final poem recited during my poetry finale in the Virtuosi house.

MY PALETTE (Kyrielle)

Some days I stare at canvas blank
While my thoughts range from dark to quaint.
Will I paint a portrait or prank
With my palette that's filled with paint?

I decide on a large landscape.
The sky and sea have no complaint.
Faster I paint, the scene takes shape,
With my palette that's filled with paint.

Dusk arrives and the scene turns dark.
Shadows elongate and they taint
The canvas as they make their mark,
With my palette that's filled with paint


Penned by my hand on the 16th of Sarapin, in the year 671 AF.