He sketched her silhouette in bed
"so i'll always remember," he said
but she couldnt understand his mind
he painted her to forget he was blind
Her infectious giggle
he tried to capture the essence of her charm
he sketched her, dying a little
with each new stroke, love dealt harm
She said, "Show me what you've got"
but his wounded heart had begun to clot
he had to hide that he was sick
her magical portrait was fading quick
What would he miss the most?
how could he illustrate what he felt?
almost as if he'd loved a ghost
he sketched her knowing she'd soon melt.
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