There would be days when she would write poetry from the top of a mountain,
And sing with the angels
As the sun rose each morning,
Laugh with all the world's children
And dance until Midnight come.
But it was painting that healed her
With each color of the canvas shining a light
That had grown dim.
Looking back now
It seemed so easy to live
But so hard to smile.
It was the laughter of a child and
The magic glow of her art
That saved her from
A life that was quiet and cold.
Her heart is full now
As She Waits
Like an Angel, Art Saved Her.