Art Class

I was never any good at it,
You cloud capture it all, perfectly.
I could never manage to make things fit
Where your attempt would sit serenely.
 
I think it was a cottage.
How could I be sure it was?
You held my mind as hostage
Beneath the paint and gloss.
 
I tried to make you laugh,
I loved the way your smile was born.
You studied each detail of that photograph
Not knowing that my heart was won.
 
I wanted to jump into that page,
Caressed beneath your loving hand.
It’s strange how things were at that age,
Where the glass of time is void of sand.
 
You helped me one day,
My fruit was poor and lacking shade.
You sweetly smirked and I heard you say,
All art is fine when joy is made.
 
I still have the plums and pears,
I have kept them close to heart,
I have not forgotten after all these years,
The way I loved you loving art.