The glue was used tactfully
In his small, dimpled hands,
Soft and without impurities
And beautiful.

The glitter was placed in such a way,
as careful carelessness allows.
So perfectly it rested
On the paper, thick and drooping for approval.

The crayon moved without a thought
To trace a simple face:
Smiling and without detail,
And beautiful.

The colors seemed to mesh together
In the way he thought he saw the world:
White and green and black,
With glitter in the sky

A smile curled upon his face,
Like a burning leaf,
Wondrous and without patience
And beautiful.

He knew of what the artists do
So he scribbled what he could:
An "R", an "F", legible to him,
And the leaf burned even more.

He showed it to his world
Who was on the telephone:
Sacred and without flaws
And beautiful.

With a busy mind and a flying watch,
Her hands placed it with a magnet.
But her eyes were on the calendar
And she didn’t see her face fall into black.

An upward glance, he stood and watched,
The leaf burning into ash,
Slanting and without hope
And unnoticeably beautiful.

 
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