I hold a crayon in my small hand

Scribble a scribble that’s more than a scribble.

In my eyes it’s a pegasus that flies 

Up into the clouds towards the sun into the big, blue sky.

I grip a pencil, get a paper 

I finish my illustration, but all I see are all my mistakes

I’m feeling frustrated until others tell me what a gorgeous sketch I’ve made-

I have potential, they say.

I choose a brush from my cup and begin painting.

One stroke... another...Gradually

Colors blend beneath gentle bristles, colors collide onto coarse, white canvas

And before me, on the easel sits a  masterpiece- created by one fine artist.