He doesn't use a paint brush,
not even made of the finest horse hair.
Yet, his creations are wondrous,
and displayed in the very thin air.
He doesn't use canvas, thinner or paint.
Yet, each is unique, colorful and quaint.
His beauty is there to be admired not taint,
though for some, more than others, its faint.
Many have tried to match his splendor,
painting, sculpting, and molding with pleasure.
Yet, his beauty is unequaled and bold,
for how can you match new human soul.
He never advertises himself,
he never displays his work.
He gives no autographs.
Yet, he listens to every word.
He doesn't put requirements on his viewers.
He never complains at their views.
He asks for nothing but love from you.
Yet, he receives it from very few.
Without even a thought he can create,
a magnificent sky of orange hue,
a flower of delicate petals,
or a six pound baby, to dress in blue.
His only canvas is you.
Written January 6th, 2005