When the rain falls on to the asphalt

And petrichor smells erupt,

I'll remember the cloudy days spent in my room,

My mind full of inspirations and ambition

To create a beautiful painting.

I put my ideas onto paper and the brushstrokes

Graze the pristine canvas with dazzling colors

As pitter patters are heard overhead on the roof.

I create the soft waves of the ocean

That sparkle endlessly in the sunlight

Beneath a clear, blue sky.

I create the flowing, luscious green leaves of

Old trees that provide shade near a pond.

I create the essence of a dream in which

I have achieved everything imaginable,

In a world where I am no longer worrisome

And I am left in a haze of peacefulness.

When the rain falls on to the asphalt 

And petrichor smells erupt,

I'll remember the cloudy days spent in my room,

In which I became an artist.