"It is easy to write," so they say.
"And 'tis quite another thing to draw."
Yet art is art, and all has its way
In the end.

I know an artist, a friend good and true,
Painting with colour as I with words.
Two paths so different, and not very new
It seems.

Yet paths so different meet in the end
When both turn to art, and reach for the top
And one the other, some help might lend
To walk.

To climb up the slopes of life's steep hill
To carry on, though boulders might fall
And pits, logs and stones the path might fill.
'Tis a dang'rous climb even so; 'tis still lonely for all.