I intended to steal the sweet colors of the sunrise
Mix them gently with hues of after shower rainbows
Stroke with a steady loving hand across the blank canvas
That was to be ours
In quiet reflective thought I drew out what I saw as beautiful
Careful to etch my emotions into every line and shape
Putting time and effort into the design, the well crafted image
That was to be ours
I sat alone, but peaceful, in my painting position
Assured you would appreciate my soul's simple offering
Never thinking it would be viewed a masterpiece
But instead a rendering of a world I was willing to share
That was to be ours
It rests on an easel in a sad corner, where little sun enters
The edges are curled, the perfect purple pansies look blue
What was to be the first of many handmade gesture of love
Sits unfinished, quite the opposite of the relationship
That was to be ours
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem