If a painter I to be,
filling life with discovery,
penning sonnets with oceans green,
there to paint an endless sea.
Or if an explorer I am to be,
quills soaring high and free,
dancing in fields of clover green,
there to ponder what yet to foresee.
Perhaps a poet I to be,
painting rainbows in hues of glee,
paper mountains yet printing green,
there stars aglow gaze back at me.
But a simple man confused I be,
feeling love am I as you can see,
gazing endlessly into eyes of green,
there my heart knows for her I be.