LunarCrystal's StoryTyme

The Admired Artist
by C.S. McBain

There once was a girl who admired an artist
She traveled to see him, she traveled the farthest
Of all the others who wanted to see
The marvelous wonders the artist decreed

There were pictures and sculptures and colorful bits
There were things that had charm, and things made with wit
The girl who came looked around and around
And fell in love with the wonders, the sights and the sounds

The people who came were all caring and nice
Not mean like the cities, not cold as ice
They welcomed the girl and gave her a treat
“Come,” they all said, “You’ve an artist to meet!”

The Artist came over in a huff and a puff
The girl had waited and enough was enough
“You must be The Girl they all told me about.”
“I am!” said the girl, standing straight as a sprout

The day went by, and nighttime too
The girl had thought it was too good to be true
Choosing to buy, she looked at a list
At last she decided on a colorful bit

“How much for this colorful bit, would you say?”
“Too much for you. I hope you can pay.”
The girl, nonplussed, said, “I can and I will
But it will take time. Just send me the bill.”

The days went by, the weeks, and months
The artist grew tired of all the distrust
“No one is buying,” said the artist, so sad
“Not even The Girl, which is really too bad.”

Down they all went, the colorful bits
The sculptures and wonders, and things made with wit
Too long she had waited to purchase her prize
“But what can I do?” she asked in surprise.

The artist was gone, the gallery closed
The girl wandered in sorrow, lost and alone
The windows were dirty, the doors all locked
“Let me in,” she cried, though she was well blocked

Her tears fell fast, a check in her hand
“Good as gold,” the bank said, and all was planned
“I will give him this paper, good as gold,” the girl said
“Then he will see that I meant what I said.”

“Please, Mr. Artist,” she banged on his door.
“Please open up,” she cried more and more.
At last the door opened, the Artist stood there
“What do you want?” he asked with a stare.

The girl bowed humbly and offered her coffer
“Take this,” she said, “because I’m a serious shopper.
The months went by and made you sad and upset
But please, Mr. Artist, don’t give up yet.”

“A colorful bit is what I would wish
Take this paper and we’ll make a quick switch
Your artwork is wonderful, and it only took time
For me to save up and call a colorful bit mine.”

The girl stood still and awaited his reply
“You like it that much?” he asked with a sigh
“I do, very much,” she said with a giggle,
“I like how it bounces, and lights up and wiggles!”

“Then it shall be yours,” said the Artist with a smile
She gave him her paper and took a bit from the pile
The girl was happy and treasured her treasure
It was so simple, yet it filled her with pleasure

For many years later, it was shown to her friends
It was better than plastic, than paper, than pens!
“Where did you find it,” her friends all inquired
With a smile the girl told the story as required

“There once was a girl who admired an artist . . .”

The End.