I want to paint a picture of my son
Upon the waiting canvas of your mind
But somehow all my efforts come undone
And words for such perfection I can't find.
I'd like to tell you how his little smile,
It fills me up with love and hope and joy,
And how for just a tiny little while
He was my dearest darling baby boy.
But sometimes words they simply cannot cope
They all fall short and end up breaking down,
And then the person writing has no hope,
Of ever being more than just a clown.
So somethings are impossible at best,
And words they sometimes need a little rest.
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