A colorless canvas concealed by muck,
I lay unnoticed against a wall.
Devoid of zest and four-clover luck,
I’d stay unpainted after all.
But his words painted streaks of golden hope.
Paints of promise colored my soul.
In his eyes, I was a kaleidoscope;
No longer monotonous, I’d become whole.
A canvas was turned into majestic art,
With a colorful “I love you, my sweetheart.”