If I could paint you with words,
I’d be talking all the time
And it wouldn’t be long before I’d run out of creative ways to rhyme.
But if I could paint you with paint,
I would be painting on forever
Because no matter how much time I spent
I could never put you all together.
There is no paint brush that can capture
The joy that is your smile,
No acrylics that can match your
Ability to listen for such a long while.
There are no highlights I could shine
Or shadows I could shade,
That could give anyone a piece of mind
About your ability to persuade.
There is no texture I could mimic,
Or color I could mix
That would describe the way you make me laugh just when I think this life cannot be fixed.
I would try to paint the background—
The place where you take on responsibilities,
The kind that you do when no one else is around,
Constantly showing integrity.
But there is no way to paint the acts of kindness that you do in secret.
So instead I continue to let you go unnoticed,
Though it is still these little things that I hold dearest.
I’m in love with the life you make,
The way you breathe it into others.
I’m in love with the poetry you create
With the way you treat your mother.
…And if I could paint you,
You would not be yourself,
Because the you that lives the way only you do
Is not like anybody else.
And you cannot be painted,
Not fully, not complete.
Because there is no image made by human hands that could display what you mean to me.