His legs were long, his temper short
Announcing wrong, in loud discord
He smelled of ink and paint and glue
A mind of gold, a heart dark blue
Adopted from a foreign land,
He grew too fast into a man
A brilliant artist so alone
With wife, four kids and loving home
Creating art from God’s own eyes
He never seemed to realize
The gifts he had or where to go
Within a prayer or love to show
He wished to be upon a shore,
In a bar, or with a whore.
Upon an island white with sand
Like Picasso or Gaugan
A day or two, he’d go away
And tears would fall, as Mamma prayed
Then he’d come back with smiles and grins
With sorry’s for his earlier sins.
It wasn’t till his 70th year, when all were gone
And death drew near, he figured out where he belonged.
He came to God with open hands
Then God did give him promised lands
He lived another 14 years,
Full of life and free of fears
And God did shine within his art
His mind, his body, soul and heart.
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