Moms' Shoes

Mommy, magnificently attired.
Her beautiful hair, pulled to a braid.
Mommy, her elegance never strayed.
So eloquently, she made her face.
Her age hidden though not her grace.

So while mommy is out to play.
I can do art my own way.
Eyeshadow, bronzer over here.
A pencil, I smile-an innocent cheer.

The wonderous sky and clouds.
Yes, a tree! Hope I'm allowed!
Brilliant red lipstick for flowers, ya know.
Oh, more blue. .. water to help them grow.

A masterpiece my mommy will  discover.
As I rest and I slumber.
I slid on her shoes to feel so close.
My mommy says I'm a good girl, an artist she rose.