A Painter heard the Poet’s words,
Then took his golden brush,
To paint the world alive again,
Down to the river’s rush.
The sky is crisp and clear and blue,
His breath is on the air,
He silently walks through the street
With sunlight in his hair.
His eyes are cast down at his feet,
He hurries to get home,
Afraid to stop beside the park
With the blackened dome.
As surely as the wind will blow,
Each day will start anew,
As surely as the world will turn,
My thoughts will be of you.
How your eyes light up with laughter,
Warms deep within my soul,
There’s a little angel sleeping,
In the clouds up above,
When I think of her soft, sweet face,
My heart so fills with love.
A little light glows brightly, still,
Nestled within her heart,
It’s fueled by all our memories,
Kindled right from the start.