The Master Painter

She put the last stroke on the canvas, and stood before her art,
A masterpiece no doubt, full of love too hard to part.
She had painted many before, but nothing that compared,
Nothing that captured so many memories shared.

While the paint was still drying, she reflected on her art,
Had she painted well and given her whole heart?
Perhaps the evidence was in the detail, the thoughtfulness of each stroke,
Or was it in the colours which required you to soak?
To soak in every aspect, of life lived to the full,
To be capable and willing to be loved and meaningful.

She was the master painter, and today puts down her brush,
To pass it on to you and me as long as we don’t rush.
For all of us, we must remember to live our best life well,
The Master Painter, ________, who we now bid farewell.