She holds him close, as he sleeps,
Fearful in the morning; he will not speak.
His mind is sore, his body is tired.
She kisses his forehead, then his cheek
She worries so much, he does not understand;
She doesn’t mind – she loves him so.
He continues to paint,
Paint only her; even on days
When he knows not even his name.
His memory though weak,
His love is still strong;
Her eyes water as he grasps her hand.
“I love you my dear,”
She smiles again,
He could brush a smile onto a canvas,
He could imagine the world in many colors;
It was his only his voice, his touch & his love
That could paint her world; the brightest of all colors.