Art Lessons

My child, she likes to draw for me

She knows her father's praise

And with each stroke draws closer

To my adulation's gaze

“Come on, come dad, come, look and see!”

My awes anticipates

To lift her far above the light

Of love of self awaits

Each stroke is lined with quivered hand

Unsure in shape and form

Yet nonetheless and earnest stretch

In every motion born

Beginning marks the confidence

As later strokes define

Constrained then bold emotions flowed

Expressed and inner kind

“That’s beautiful, my love!  Oh my!”

“Again, and show me more!”

And so my daughter teaches me

What art is really for

To give without self-consciousness

To strive and do our best

What father wouldn’t praise such work

Its beauty manifest

I too in life have scribbled some

To craft my soul for praise

Yet what I lacked in skill

Perhaps made up in other ways