User Review( votes)
I wonder if I ever cross her mind,
If she holds her breath,
When she stumbles upon my pictures.
For me it happens all the time.
One look at her and its picture perfect.
Cut out of premium canvas.
Imprinted with enchanting colors.
Etched by the finest brush strokes.
I’ve studied her face and her eyes that sparkle.
I gaze in them and the depth is captivating.
Shades fade into the hue,
A glimpse of her soul perhaps.
Her facial outline culminates with a soft chin.
Her smile drawn in faultless symmetry.
A slight tilt on her delicate lips,
Only a fine pencil could trace.
The twinkle in her eyes,
The radiance emanating from her face,
With a flickering tinge of golden brown,
Only achievable with thin glazes of oil paints.
Her facade rendered is smooth and light.
Like a beautiful piece of wood, polished,
I imagine, if I had painted her,
She would look just the way she was.
In every picture there is a poem,
In this poem there is a picture.
A picture worth more than a thousand words,
Yet words can’t describe the marvel she portrays.
Script & Rhyme