Illusionist

Magic blue eyes run over the white page,
but they don't see white. They see black,
black and red, gold and green, yellow or brown,
perhaps a touch of grey.
The image of a tree, bending beneath the load
of a thousand little sparrows lives there,
but never once on the canvas.
The birds chirp happily and stare at his electric blue.
They chirp one triumphant blow in unison
and take off to torture some poor soft wood,
winking at him as they go.
A lion lays down beneath the shade of the freshly renewed tree,
with leaves growing like daisies from the snow,
out of nowhere, but fully alive.
The lion snores and rolls over to more comfort.
Ghostly hands spring from the tree
and caress the lions fur,
the branches reach for the brush
and finally the sight begins to grow.