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Description
If I were a painter,
I'd paint your memories,
Your earliest day, and quirky way,
I'd paint you easily.

If I were a poet,
I'd scribble you some lines,
Of flower days, and country ways,
and other loving times.

If I were an author,
Your story I would write,
On every page, a different age,
as you slept alone at night.

If I were a teacher,
I'd give you all I know,
Of classic lit and ancient script,
And language as you grow.

If I were your lover,
I'd love you till the end,
Kiss you first, and quench your thirst,
and hold you while you mend.

But I'm an observer,
In your heart, always a friend.
And there I see, I'll always be,
Anonymous until the end.

Old Poem...New Picture

Description
If I were a painter,
I'd paint your memories,
Your earliest day, and quirky way,
I'd paint you easily.

If I were a poet,
I'd scribble you some lines,
Of flower days, and country ways,
and other loving times.

If I were an author,
Your story I would write,
On every page, a different age,
as you slept alone at night.

If I were a teacher,
I'd give you all I know,
Of classic lit and ancient script,
And language as you grow.

If I were your lover,
I'd love you till the end,
Kiss you first, and quench your thirst,
and hold you while you mend.

But I'm an observer,
In your heart, always a friend.
And there I see, I'll always be,
Anonymous until the end.

Old Poem...New Picture