Dear Mr. Sunshine,
I always paint you pictures–
Large, sweeping canvases
of my ramblings. Often,
my paintbrush is hazy.
Fogged up with the tropical,
heavy-weight air of future-obsession.
Incertitude-crazy.

Mr. Sunshine,
You are quiet humility.
You are imperfect and simultaneously
You are flawless.
Your kindness is the vastness
of the West. Exceeding.
And lawless.

My Sunshine,
You paint my murky canvas
Adoringly
so yellow.