Pools of paint on paper plates, and dirty lakes of water lays in a coffee cup.

Artists delicately dip their brushes, and commence their masterpieces

One girl uses cardboard letters to spell out her name.

Another paints a frame,

And her friends does the same.

Everyone seems half awake, and room bustles with soft spoken chit-chat.

A blank canvas stares at me.

It waits to be sketched, erased, and colored, impatiently.

I search through my phone for a potential muse

And I find, to my delight,

My favorite painting, Starry Night.

I pick up my brush

Ready to get my sleeves dirty

I would truly stay here all day

If I didn’t have a problem set due at five thirty.