Canvas

Canvas

Canvas Of Life

As you walked into my life,

You picked up a paintbrush,

And made a small black line

In the corner of my canvas.

And as I got to know you,

You used that paintbrush,

More and more.

And soon, I had a corner,

full of color and love.

And it was all done by you.

Then you left.

And I cried,

Realizing how much color you gave me.

How much you marked up my canvas,

With your color and love.

But your last mark hurt.

And in that area,

In your place on my canvas

Was a small, black streak.

Which you left me to clean up alone.

Slowly but surely,

I painted over that mark,

With the beautiful colors

Of knowing you.

And I realized that,

Everyone leaves their mark,

When they pass over your canvas.

Whether it's in an erasable pencil,

Or permanent pen.

They all leave a mark:

Good or bad.

And you can choose to erase that mark,

White it out.

Or you can paint on your canvas,

With the beautiful memories of that person.

Elisabeth A. Gildenzoph

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