God is
The only artist
Who felt love when He created
Instead of pain.
When He painted the sky
With the blushing pinks
Vibrant blues
Deepest oranges,
He was sighing to Himself,
Dreaming of the apples
Of your cheeks when you smile.
When He put every insignificant leaf in its
Significant spot on
A specific tree,
He smiled to Himself,
Dreaming about the freckles
That you, His royalty,
Have always hated about yourself.
And when He placed the
Moon and every star
In that same sky He painted,
He stood mesmerized
At the dimple
On the top of your left cheek.
And He thought about how
He named septillions of stars
Individually,
And could think, still,
Of more words than that
To describe how beautiful
You are to Him.
God is
The only artist
Who felt love when He
Created
Instead of pain