Twas the night before NaMoPaiMo, and the rest of the family was not about,
The art supplies were scattered, pan pastels left out;
Some supplies from the day's shopping, still left in the car,
The first of February was not too far;
The artist sat in a chair at one end of the room,
Staring at their freshly prepped horse filled with doom;
To make an elaborate dappled gray,
Or to stick with a simple bay;
So many choices, enough to make one's head spin,
But the artist did not deter, as their frown gave away to a grin;
They decided that there should be a lot of white,
But not with a base coat too light;
They decided upon a chocolatey sunburnt black,
And as the clock struck midnight, it was time to attack!
So sorry for this awful attempt at poetry. Good luck to all of you NaMoPaiMo'ers!
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