A Perfect Portrait
The artist was waiting patiently
Before his long broad canvas.
His eyes- sated with enthusiasm
His fingers- showing the utmost adroitness.
He grabbed a color palette with his one hand,
A brush with the other.
A new portrait is going to be made.
A portrait, more realistic than ever.
The complexion would be
Neither as bold as stone,
Nor as weak as sands,
Not as deliberate as storms,
Not as gullible as scudding clouds,
The complexion would be flawless.
The artist on the midway, gave a pause,
Looked around and saw the audience,
“One, two, three,” he began to count,
“7 billion”, he finished.
All were waiting yearningly
Waiting for a perfect portrait.
At last the artist was done,
Then all the audience stared at the complexion,
Oh, he portrayed a man’s life
But he failed to give it perfection.
Written by: Tahmid Wasit