Quaint, the Saint of Paint,
Prayed for another muse to amuse her rush to brush
the canvas before her.
But no muse amused her rush to brush,
Thus she dared to cut her hair and vow silent penance
until the moon was high in her window one night.
Then Quaint painted like never before,
in colors never heard of nor never seen.
Starvation was her salvation as a painter
and her damnation as a saint.
They burned her skeletal body on a cross made of her paintings,
watching her burn artistically, still silent and unrepentant,
celebrating the end of another witch.