My Artist

                                                    My Artist  


Life comes alive under her hands, vibrant and new,
                  Her beautiful eyes, which see what I can not.
Delicate hands that hold a brush and my feelings,
                  In equal balance, and bring both to life.

A mind that sees in shading, shadows and highlights,
                  Where all I see is black, gray and white.
The lovely face that studies the painting in rapture,
                   Captivates me still, after so many years.