Chapter 1
Her hair, it was black and lovely
she was getting old yet never ugly
her eyes were pure and full of love
a glimpse within can cure my heart
she was brave but kind
strong, never timid
a talk with her is a talk of wise
always true and not only nice
she said my heart is perfectly well
and that I only show how I feel
taking my brush, change it with sword
is always against her own accord
but dust it will my fellow be
if I remain selfish and free
she fixed my hair and gave me gift
it was my portrait, she lift
I never knew my mother was a painter
and that this hands of mine were after her.
