Drying Out Paint Strokes

Painted promises 
Wait until the paint dries out 
Before picking up this piece 


I know, no such man  
Who holds holly his work in progress 
And opens up his door, gladly 


To have spectators, swamp in 
As he sets out the revelations 
Of his mind in wonder process 


The critics would have their day
But not now, while I am in the process
With epiphany at my beck and call


Occupied signs on doors
Means an engagement of a kind
Do not disturb, wait until paints do dry out 


At the galleries, of course feel free  
Hanged on white walls, as observers wish 
With no paint palette, and mess on floors  


Clinically clean to help one, zone in 
In to what makes, thee deservedly a critic 
And ponder why a stroke, looks so out of place 


But for now, professor 
Allow paint strokes to dry on canvas 
I am still wearing my beret, with work cloths