I used to dream that I could paint this place
In colors more than stunning and could make
A smile appear upon another’s face.
But what I give falls short of all I take,
And what I’ve found is the sorrow of space.
And still I wish to make that smile at stake.
But these days, I’m as helpless as a child.
And can make no diff’rence to those around.
Though try as I might, my efforts are mild,
And the deeds that I do just go unfound.
But still my heart aches, and my passion- wild.
I’ll keep on in my ways, without a sound.
And maybe one day after I am gone,
Someone will notice all that I have done.