The Art of Love

I long for the skill of an artist, To paint like the great Raphael, To show as would Michaelangelo, A beauty that words cannot tell. I watch as she bends over her infant With a love too great to contain, For a child more dependant and helpless Than when in her womb it had lain. She could have posed for the Madonna, Her profile as pure as a saint's. This utter devotion she has to this child, Can't be shown by canvass and paints. I must strive with inadequate words To portray this mother and child, To show beauty so sweet and ethereal, The world, as I am, is beguiled. Can a love like this is be captured In a painting or in words written down? This purest passion ever created Is what makes the world go around.