The Sketch

The Sheppard


He is the the firm rock beneath my feet, quietly holding me up like a stone pillar holds up a roof. He is the vast sky above my head, giving me hope of things to come, reason to press forward. He is the pitbull barking at cunning solicitors on my porch, warning me of thier presence and thier intent. He is man's best friend with his innocent puppy dog eyes and big floppy ears disigned to dry my sorrowfull tears. He is the open journal anctiously waiting for pen to hit paper. He calls to me arms open wide, the comforter, the protector. He waits for my call like a neglected boyfriend, never straying far from the telephone. His greatest desire is to bring to pass my eternal life. His love like that of a father leading his family through his sacrifice and his example. The breath of fresh mountain air after lifeless days in an underground cave. The original painting changing the world of art simply through its existance, it's beauty, it's perfection.