"All empty and bare like a paper white
That represents his heart, excite
Waiting to paint that canvas blue
As a prologue to a romance due
Take red and yellow and strike it bold
Colour it bright and wild with gold
Then on the canvas, draw a picture of birds
No need for sketches, no need for words.
With a frame in hand, all wooden and brown
Now the canvas is painted, like a king just-crowned
It's beautiful and a wonder to see and awe
Yet something is missing, a grievous flaw.
"You call this art? An impossible claim!
Such works, so careless would never know fame
For what this drawing, this canvas needs
Is emotions and feelings that far exceeds"
And so the artist, now bowed in regret
Walked away in silence, choosing to forget
Never again would he paint in blue
Nor red, nor gold in any other hues
Now, 2 years on he chanced to glance
At the tattered canvas, he sees a chance
To make correct what once was wrong
He knows how to beautify, twas in him all along
His heart once cold, and hard as stone
Has now found love in instances unknown
With the courage to paint that canvas again
He picks up his brush with strokes refrain
So the canvas once blue, with red and gold
Is now a piece of art to see and behold
Yet something's still amiss, it don't quite make sense
For it now has more worth than dollars and cents
Thus locked in a closet, the painting sat still
For a day when its master has his wish fulfilled
Only then will it know the power of love
And the meaning to the drawing of the two white doves"
The purpose of this stranger's poem and prose
Is simple, and true like a song compose
That somewhere in the crowd there is a "he"
Whose love for you spans ocean and sea
And here's what he needs to say to you
A short indication of what is true
So don't be surprised as it takes you away
Cause truly love is, and this what he has to say.
"Sorry for not doing what I should do
To an angel like you sent from above
You're special and unique, in my heart you'll stay
Cause you're the she I fell in like for
And now Im in love"
