Elegy for Ruth

An easel sighed and caught the eye,

of paints and brushes stored nearby,

the silent room so full of light,

echoed news of dear Ruth’s plight.

Pencils sketched as if by magic,

what they wrote, so very tragic.

Beloved mother, grandma, wife,

had closed the canvas of her life.

Tubes of oil stood in grief.

the pain of loss in stark relief;

to vivid paintings hung on walls,

colored sketches, vibrant halls.

Inspired life, shown in themes,

exquisite colors preserving dreams.

A life well lived through an artist’s eye,

but at ninety-five; her time was nigh.

Her body frail found peace in sleep;

her loved ones shocked began to weep.

They missed her presence in their midst,

her gentle mind, and what she didst.

Her palettes glowed a rainbow’s hue,

gifting all she ever knew,

with every color ever known,

an artist carried to her home.