Wet brush
Thick paper                       
Green counters
Dryer tumbling
She’s looking out the
Mudroom window
My wide eyes are memorized
Her wet brush gliding along the special paper.
a Lily I swore was alive
But somehow barely there
Her hand so steady
Unlike mine
Art jumping off the page
Radiating life
Every table set,
Out of a magazine,
Understood how to make the colors sparkle just right.
I lived in amazement of all she made pretty.
Does she know all she gave away?                                             The wonders of her mind, where do they now lay?
I see the art pouring out of her hands, are they ever really looking at her?
All that I saw, day after day, a beautiful artist hiding away.