Brush
From brush strokes made upon the white
Come fairies hiding in the night
This way, that way, out of sight
Colors play in magic lights
They manifest from liquid sound
A dance of Pixies flying round
Cling to hair then jumping down
In rooms of canvas, no door is found
He waves and whispers from secret scrolls
Through wands of wizards, spells of old
Come reds of fire and blues of cold
To capture dragons' precious gold
Come fairies hiding in the night
This way, that way, out of sight
Colors play in magic lights
They manifest from liquid sound
A dance of Pixies flying round
Cling to hair then jumping down
In rooms of canvas, no door is found
He waves and whispers from secret scrolls
Through wands of wizards, spells of old
Come reds of fire and blues of cold
To capture dragons' precious gold
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