You laid your soul in paint for all to see Your heart left behind, forever will be Every stroke you made was a thought in time An absolute story for an audience to opine.
I can still smell the fresh oil paint Your coffee, canvas, and wood you frame Sounds from the craft room from inside you sing That old gospel music helped you keep your mind wandering
I can see your face as the color comes to life A smile, a grimace, a decision to decide A Winter landscape for me so real A Christmas past, a childhood experience, a memory for me to feel
Your hands moved slowly, steady with grace, As if time itself paused to give you space. I watched you build a world you knew, Yet somehow, in the making, you painted me too.
Now your canvas hangs above where creative mind flows, A whisper of you as each morning goes. Though you’re gone, your colors remain As inspiration to me, a direction, my thoughts vein
