I got this idea while writing the blurb for my art book; pretty good, don't you think?

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There's a single blank canvas in the room,
As plain and white as the snow that fall;
There are pens, pencils, and paint everywhere,
Scattered around messily without a care.

The artist stared at the whiteness,
As she sat on the former tree;
Suddenly, an idea begins emerging,
Like a little plant sprouting.

She grabbed her pencil,
She grabbed the colours;
This is the moment she waited for,
When the canvas is empty no more.