An Artist(?) Poem by Bryan Riley

I have NEVER been a painter.
I have never even attempted it.
I know, as surely as I know
my own name, that I
simply do NOT possess
that particular talent

Even now, my artist's mind
sees the vision, but my hand
can't duplicate with clever oils
the resentment the setting must
feel at my intrusion.

Not that I'm jealous-
(okay, maybe I'm a little jealous)
but I am also grateful that I can
at least SEE the beauty so many
others seem to miss.

So instead, with my pen and
several scraps of paper I'll create
a perfect haiku for your soul,
a symphony for your heart-
written in a minor key;
played lovingly, just for you,
in three-quarter time.