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Your life began as a doodle —
in pen and ink, I think,
scrawled in tiny scraps of time
while my mind was elsewhere.
I survived your brief graffiti phase —
urban parasite —
feeding off the underside of bridges,
crude outlines breeding in the dark.
Now, I'm proud to say,
you're quite a work of art.
Fine perspective —
if a mite on the abstract side at times.
I really should find you a name.
Would hate you to get mixed up
with the other Untitleds drifting around.
Especially now a glorious future is likely.
You have it in you to become an installation:
perfect integration of paint and text and sound.
At the very least,
you'll be a touring exhibition,
with poster versions made,
postcards too.
All the world will yearn to buy
Waterlilies, Sunflowers — and You.
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