The Painter’s Masterpiece

The Masterpiece

He strikes the canvas with a final stroke,

The brush it’s bristles so worn;

His hands are throbbing – they are raw.


Coffee stains among the mess,

His hair is covered in pinks & blues;

He smiles then laughs with pride in his heart.


“Darling, darling.” He screams with joy,

He calls her name with affection & hope;

She comes to him, and grasps his hand.


“Sweetheart, rest, you need to sleep.”

He shakes his head, wanting out of his bed;

She kisses him softly and lies beside him.


“I made it,” He says.

“The masterpiece.” He beams.

She touches his cheek as he finally goes to sleep.


Her heart sore, her tears so strong.

She could remember it clearly; all too well.


Her fingers pull the sheet,

That kept the painting bleak;

She cries as she sits back, her heart beating so fast.


“I drew us, darling, you & me – as happy as we could be.”

He smiles at her, she returns.

“You’ll never be alone, I’ll never forget.”


She can’t help the smile, even with tears

As her heart is warmed, her love so fierce

“I love you too, dear – so much, you did it, you did. This is a masterpiece; of our love.”


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