Painter Lady

You ask that I paint us
into a picturesque setting,
where the sky weeps blue
and green covers the ground;

a place where we can run
barefoot through fields of daisies,
never fearing the wrath of bees.
You ask for a perfect world.

So you crown me Painter Lady
with the richness of oils,
a sable brush my scepter
and my robes made of pastels.

Though my heart wishes it,
I cannot do this task
you so confidently request.
Our love may be perfect
but the world isn’t.