In my mind, I must have tried to paint your face a million times.
Throughout the years, I’ve patch worked you together, one piece, a little at a time.

The Art of Memory suggests that I should start with the color of your eyes
As I recollect, they were flow blue, and I was simply mesmerized.  

Brush splashes across this canvas with lightning bolts of golden hair.
Reminding me of ocean waves, ebb tides riding currents of trade wind air.

And the freckles I painted so lovingly upon this porcelain face,
Are like a constellation of stars that surpass time and space.

Its only when I close my eyes and go back in time
That the completed image parts the clouds and the sun begins to shine