Old man's at the river painting the scene.
He's working on boats and feeling serene.
Unnoticed, a person's drowning out there
while scents from the food shacks float through the air.
A boat's coming closer, rescue is near.
The drowner will live to conquer his fear.
The rowboats have oars that swing like the wind.
He paints them so well with paint that's been thinned.
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For houses on hillside he's been remiss.
Unfinished, the painting still looks like bliss.
He'll finish tonight in warm sunset glow,
'cause setup's so long and makes things go slow.
His easel and sketch and paints are there too.
He's already used most every hue.
He's racing with time to finish it all.
When darkness arrives, he must heed the call.
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Unfettered, his brushes dip into paint
creating a scene that's looking so quaint.
Fast forward, it's now beginning of night.
The painter must stop because there's no light.
Aware that it's done, he lets out a sigh.
He sees the bright lights of stars in the sky.
Another day ends with quacking of ducks
who chat on a river that's always in flux.
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This gift for his mom is cheery and bright.
He'll hang in the hallway under the light.
It stays in his home because she has passed.
His tribute to her is finished at last.
He's satisfied now, exposing his heart.
He sheds all his tears and makes a fresh start.
It's goodbye to mom, although she's still here.
Forever, her spirit brings him good cheer.
