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Click hereI paint her with words,
Rather than brushes,
My fingers will not easily hold.
My eyes can’t see the colors clear,
But the description in my memory,
Take me back to her youth.
A fine lined porcelain face,
With ruby lips and azure eyes,
That danced when the devil took her due.
How can any oils or color capture the love
Of her? Or any brushstroke let flow
Her kind and gentle ways.
I paint her with words
For word are all I have that flow
Upon the canvas of the mind.
Everyone writes at least one of these poems. This is one of the better ones that I have seen on Lit.