She is a little nervous, this her very first attempt at quenching her artistic thirst
The brush – blue and nimble – trembles oh so delicately whilst resting within her manicured hand
She softly smiles and graces the view with a warm glance, praying for all of these mesmerising individual occurrences to take aforementioned hand and dance
Perchance might they lend her the time to shine in a replicated fashion – the burning bright passion for these pretty blue skies to meet these silkened silhouette mountain peaks half-way will continue to justifiably summon in her everything
When her blank canvas cannot but feel the utter need to eloquently strut its devoted stuff

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