A marble rolls,
As I watch my artist grow,
With her beautiful paintings,
Of red, brown, blue, and gold,
Where will she go?
All around the globe?
Will I ever get to encounter another painting?
Of snow covered mountains,
Of white daisies and red roses,
Of a girl tossing all of her wishes into fountains,
Of a newborn baby’s eyes coated in a first place prize blue.
How about a poem?
Describing how beautifully the sun shines on the moon,
Describing blissful dives and high tides,
Describing her days that she spent in her uniform of white and maroon,
Describing drives during the starry night and early morning car rides.
One more story?
About her limited adventures that contain unlimited zest,
About her long days at the beach thinking about her dreams that she thinks are out of reach,
About her time spent in the ocean drowning her emotions,
About the few drunken endeavors that she remembers.
But what I want most of all,
Is for the world to see her masterpieces,
For the beauty that she is and the beauty that she creates,
And if I never get to see one again,
Then I’ll always remember everything that she was,
In every masterpiece I see.