A Photograph From Four Years Ago

Acting the fool as always, mask in place,
your eyes twinkle; your grin hidden by its image.
This photo is one of very few left,
a species doomed to extinction –
one of the last traces of your existence.

That day you’d been trying to paint me,
adamant that my face was one for canvas.
I couldn’t pose. I laughed and snorted like a mule,
unable to let you take me seriously.
You saw something in me that no-one else ever did.

It ended in a paint fight, bright splashes everywhere,
my face blue – a Violet Beauregarde impression.
Your smile worth more than any Golden ticket,
a thing I never knew would be so rare.
Something left to history as you’re three years gone.