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Every morning I wake up,

Unfortunately.

Another day in paradise-

What fresh Hell awaits?

But then I remember

I’ve a text to send:

Good morning cutie!

Whatever the lottery numbers were

That fateful January 2020 day that you

Strolled into my life,

They were etched into my soul

With the same tools you use

To turn blank canvas into something

I’d drop my life savings

Just to have on my wall.

No hill you could ever paint

Could be too high for me to

Climb

When fueled by the feelings I have

Towards you.

My abilities in art

Are about as good as

The baby

From that Hemingway short story

But I would create a million pieces,

One for each time you make me smile

Each day,

Because a moment of time spent with you

Not preserved is my Library of Alexandria.

It’s no wonder you’re an artist

Since whatever grand designer created us

Took extra time to sculpt perfection when

You came to the front of the line.

And I’m grateful every day

That I get to be the number one fan

Not just of your art

But of the art that is you.