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SheHer brush is love, Her colours tough, She paints each moment, Soft and lush. Arranging shapes, Of life in rows, She matches style, When on the go. She sings her pain, In rhythmic tune, Hiding tears In darkened room. Her artist heart, Holds no rest. She ever strives A perfect nest. Her patterned life, Is oft on hold, As she moulds In movement bold. She lives a poem, And talks a book. In clever contrast, Likes to cook. She reads her love Behind the scenes, And breathes his love, In rainbow dreams. Her children's smiles, And lovers space, She softly shapes In perfect place. An artist heart, A passion strong, She lives her life In sweetest song! Joy Weare. 10th July, 2004. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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