Little artist

 You can spot the artists early on

The teacher tells them

Not so much glitter

And they are deafly pouring

Ignoring 

For the work calls for globs

Of stars 

The teacher scolds 

Within the lines stay

And the little artist strays

For the work did not call

For lines just in there

But everywhere

And the teacher reminds

It's a primary

And we must not make

Our heaven secondary

But the little artist

Sees the Angels upon

The celestial beams 

Descending

And certainly knows

The colors teachers

Not seeing.