Strokes and flicks, Glides of guilded golds Hushed in the Blues, Innocence in the Greens; Boldly infused oils Spilling out on a canvas; A legacy built on Sorrow. Toil. Turmoil. Who with dark indents on a page shaded in Shadows showed Work. Work, work, Constant work. A Starry Night’s muse. All the while cowards saying they always Knew, Always loved, Always loving Vincent.