Sometimes I am not sure what I am painting. Sometimes it is down right ugly. Sometimes I know that if I never finish the painting we owe each other nothing.
Then I take a break and come back to it. I give it another chance. The painting…and…SHE… gives ME…another chance. Another chance to give her a life, and to make a difference. Sometimes it works and sometimes, it still doesn’t.
Another day passes and she reveals herself to me. She is the face of my garden. She is the soul of a colourful sunny day. She is the moment where flowers kiss the earth. She is my soul. She and I merge. She is complete.
I came to your garden – saw you there, saw you there
I hovered up above – in the air, in the air
Moved your hand with intention – as you dug, as you dug
I longed to touch it again – feel the mud, feel the mud
I am proud of your garden – my love, my love
I will smile down on it like the sun – from above, from above
Thank you Mom.