You are
a work of art;
there is music
in your footsteps,
and melodies
in your voice.
This once
insipid world
is now
full
of colors.
Did you lend a
hand with that?
Did you paint
the skies cerulean,
the curtains green,
the windows red?
In my sorrow
you put a finger
to these lips
as if to say
‘Let us not talk
about sad things’,
then you and I
would speak
about
the goodness
in everything.
Did you lend a
hand with that?
Did you teach
these lips
to express
the miracles
of life,
laughter,
and love?
You had a
gentleness
about those
around you
like you knew
everyone
was fighting
their own battles,
everyone was worth it.
Compassion should
be given where it
is needed.
Did you lend a
hand with that?
Did you show
me when to
give somebody
a shoulder to cry on,
a hand to hold,
a kiss g'night?
Darling,
how I miss you so.
Everything has changed
-even you and I-
but perhaps
you are
all of the
loveliness
that I have written
-and will ever write about-
from the very beginning.
And I
just
couldn’t
grasp you
clearly.
How I
hear,
see,
think,
and feel
are all
different now.
Did you lend
a hand with that?

~*D.C.