The Paintbrush

The paintbrush swept the sandy beach,

Which was colourful like a peach.

Shining bright in the sun,

Followed by joyful shouts from everyone.

The man follows the brush,

And listens to a singing thrush.

Where will the man end up,

Following with his tiny pup.

The brush is as green as green could be,

Sweeping near the roaring sea.

As the brush sweeps the sand,

It starts to make the beach look grand.

So all in all said the man,

I will follow it whenever I can.

The sun shone full and bright,

It truly was a wonderful sight.

By Oliver Cripps