Life is a changing canvas
The strokes once bold
Now, blurred;
The dashes dainty
Now, outstood.
The picture painted before
Was of a demure lass
That feared many a storm
And fancied many a charm.
Now, dignity deigned
To laugh at cares
And in occasional respite, laze.
With the picture altered
What remains is merely its semblance in shade.
Then for what purpose were we made
If we are thus altered?
Gently as the running brook that shapes the roughened rock,
Life makes the frivolous painting
A fervent masterpiece.
