Cutting, placing, pasting, smoothing
I smiled at the process,
the pictures she chose,
the arrangment she made.
It was just so . . . Lauren
But Lauren had other ideas.
I saw the wheels turning . . .
"Can I make Rapunzel with the flower, Mommy?"
My smile was permission enough
As she swirled the paintbrush in deliberate, delicate strokes
It's like going to a different place, a thrilling yet peacful place.
I wonder if You had that same look in those seven days of creation.
I wonder if You had that same look when you sculpted her in the womb.
As her wrist sways and the colors blend,
different questions emerge in the rainbow hues:
Nature verses nurture?
How much of her is Me?
How much of her is her daddy?
How much of her is You?
How much of her is her?
No words, no scrapbooks, no brilliant portrait I would attempt to create
Could ever capture the true essence of what you've given us
Only You know the intricacies of her soul
She is truly a work of Art.