One April Claude Monet became enraptured <br />With an oak, a vision begging to be captured <br />On canvas, bare limbs stark against the light. <br />Magnifique! Mon Dieu, he’d paint this right! <br /> <br />His brushes trimmed and paint on palette, Monet <br />With impressionistic fervor daubed his way <br />Toward greatness. Alas, it soon began to pour. <br />Zut! Gathering up his gear, he went indoors. <br /> <br />La pluie continued not one week but three. <br />In May Monet emerged to find his tree <br />Now hidden under leaves of verdant green. <br />Merde! he yelled, stomping his feet with spleen. <br /> <br />Not one to beat about the bush (or tree) , <br />Monet demanded that the mayor of Giverny <br />At once dispatch a crew to strip each and every leaf. <br />Later he returned to paint a tree now wrapped in grief.<br /><br />Chuck Toll<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/portrait-gallery-creative-license/
