This girl whose sight I hold so dear
Brings to life her deepest dreams
And makes the form of truth appear.
Pigments swirl from a seasoned brush;
Another unsung success.
Don't say that it's a masterpiece;
Her selfless heart assumes it's less.
Colors mingle in motley mixtures
As subconscious creatures secretly creep.
Fingers smear the saucy sculptures
And decipher decryption as concoctions seep.
Never quite knowing what warrants await
In the unfinished tableau,
This girl, an unselfishly sensitive soul,
Might not see as much as you.
With tender touch and steady strength
Her hands possess serenity;
The moves they make and the charms they cast
Reveal her subtle mastery.
Impressionist artistry seems sufficient;
It needs no illicit inhibitions.
Her earnest expression proves most proficient
When accomplished without refined recognition.
Restricting rules and damaging discipline
Betray the free simplicity
Inherent within her art's creation
That leads to its lovely symmetry.
How lucky are we who can sympathize
With such a wonder; a joyful surprise:
The girl who so happily illustrates
The beauty she witnesses with her bright eyes.
