My Heart, My Artist


    Why did I choose to love her?


    Why do I love her still?


    Was it her unnurtured tenderness?


    Was it that she bore none ill will?


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    When I close my eyes I see


    Her dimples to frame her smile


    Her sweet and nourishing kindness


    Invites me to sit and stay awhile.


    She carries no hate in her heart


    Though the world''s been cold and cruel


    And when she dreams, she dreams of art


    Another canvas soon lies full


    Of sunlight wrought in red and gold


    Of vibrant daffodils.


    Why I love her can not be distilled


    In stanzas and in meter


    I''m afraid to say there is but one way


    You''d simply have to meet her.