His hands take the material before him
Pieces insignificant when viewed on their own
He fits each piece as if parts of a puzzle
Art created… from mere sticks and stones
He sits alone… no distractions
The quiet… a canvas; white and clear
His mind forever creative; forever working
His tools…his comfort…always near
He works slowly; aged hands of experience
Bringing forth the visions of his mind
The physical body may be restricted
But his mind; will not be confined
His art will be his legacy
Cherished treasures created by his hands
A part of the artist; bearing his uniqueness
Each piece; imparting memories of this man
His art…allows the artist…immortality
Art; being an expression of his heart
A glimpse…at the man; at the artist
As his creativity; his vision…he imparts
His art; his vision is simplistic
He sees art in nature; in ordinary things
His hands…bring forth; created beauty
Through his art; his soul softly sings
Written by TaVona Salaz Treadwell