A lazy Sunday afternoon,
Cool wind and a view of the Champaka,
Its golden flowers wafting sensuously..
An urge to paint overwhelms,
Out comes the canvas or perhaps paper or a plain shirt.
Pencil and crayon buzzing hurriedly.
A race against time begins.Corrections and eraser dust mounts,
Paint splashes in a riot of colors,
A complaining neck and a grumbling stomach ensues.
Finishing touches… And more corrections , a smudge cleverly hidden in another form,
A picture clicked and we are done.
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