To the woman I strive to be,
I desire to be a woman of honor
With character as pure as the freshest pigment.
A woman whose integrity is like the simplest stroke of a brush,
Straight and unwavering:
A blank canvas of a woman, pure and full of potential.
I desire to be a woman embossed with the color of joy.
A woman who plans for the future with the passions of an artist,
With care and confidence.
One who arises to the beauty of a thousand washes,
Setting about her tasks with steady hands.
I desire to be a woman who is skilled in all mediums:
Mind, body, and spirit.
A woman whose heart is sculpted through the art of service,
Caring for those around her as a painter cares for her brushes:
With love and tender hands.
A masterpiece of a woman: full of grace and beauty,
Worthy of respect and adoration.
One who adorns herself in strength and dignity,
As an artist enriches her canvas.
I desire to be a woman whose mouth flows in faithful wisdom
With the fluidity of watercolor
And whose dyed hands show no sign of idleness.
A composition of a woman deserving of both the hands that mold her
And the praises that surround her.
One whose abstract heart outlasts both conceptional beauty and wayward charm;
A God-fearing, paint-wearing woman erected from exceptional mercy,
Whose painted heart and stained hands give honor
To the one who set her free from the marble in which she once resided.
An Artist’s Heart