Painted
Painted life
When I think of my daughter I am proudest
She was too kind to ever be totally honest
Other’s feelings she never intended hurt
Her beauty not just skin deep, the boys did flirt
Flirts were unaware, for her humility rang true
Leaving home and on her own, she treated as her debut
Unafraid and unabashed, she marched on to make her mark
Wanting to right wrongs, lift the weary, and bring light to the dark
She bull rushed society, trampling on taboos and rituals, she was embolden
Painting her body with ink, knowing no fads, her only rule was golden
True to self and family, a better friend not found
No creed or religion, nor politics argued, not even God-bound
But never was a creature so close to the divine
With her life and grace, He is surely pleased with His design
Her heart was His canvas; her soul was painted with His wonder
The Master’s colors and brush strokes flowed through her
Even in the end when I saw her body, I saw His work no longer defined
For His true workmanship was not in the body she left behind
But in her heart and soul that I always saw shine through her face and smile
Her life, I could never do justice with my humble writing style