The Painting

The paintbox in my paint bag once came suddenly next to me

And opened itself and the paints were happy to be free

They ran and jumped all over the table

And ruined the internet cable

I ran after them

To catch them and put their caps on them

But they were too fast for me

And they whizzed around, too hard to see

The table was yellow, my pants were green

And there was orange on the monitor screen

I was now distraught

Because none of the paint bottles were caught

Now I went and brought my canvas board

Because I thought if the paint only fell on the canvas, it would be good

So when I kept the board on the table,

The paints broke out into a babble

After thinking for a while

They looked at me with style

And then, in a flash

They started to throw themselves on the canvas

I panicked again

And tried to catch the paints and got a sprain

So now there was nothing I could do but watch

As the paints threw themselves on the canvas

But when the paints got off

I expected the sight I would see to be tosh

But in front of me

There was an abstract painting I could see

I thanked the paints

and asked them kindly

Would they go back to their box and not jump around blindly?

So after the paints were safely in their box

I was happy because they were sly as a fox

I went and showed my mother the painting

and said I was the one who did the colouring

My mother believed me and I ran off

But afterwards, I told her it was the work of the paints in the box.