If a painters strokes could be of notes what wouldst I paint of thee?
A sweet soft rhyme, a short coy sonnet, a playful melody?

My brush would fly upon the canvas dancing joyously,
Conducting strains of choirs in a rainbow symphony.

A mirthful stave, a line of verse, a merry concophony,
Crescending into colours of an angelic elegy.

My finished works would grace the halls of all who’d come to see,
The wondrous sound of colours, a philharmonic portrait of thee.