The Painter

The painter strays from his work,

The colors they are too dull;

He searches for more, he searches so high.

 

The wife she smiles as he moves around,

His hair is stained, his clothes are ruined;

But she still smiles.

 

The man he becomes puzzled,

He looks but cannot see;

His mind is going, but his heart is fierce.

 

“Darling, come here.” His wife whispers,

He turns and smiles;

“Aye, there you are!”

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