If I could paint, I’d paint the sea
With Arctic blue and Irish green
All framed with trees the shade of smoke
That thrash and moan beneath night’s cloak
I’d paint me there upon the sand
With linen skirts and white-gloved hands
My eyes would dart along the shore
Not sure what they were looking for

If song could burn, I’d light a flame
And trap the ashes when they came
I’d lay them in my hands to dry
And quell the tears my fingers cry
Upon my palms, the ink would stay
Spelling words my lips could say
My skin would let the words soak through
Unsure of what else it could do

If love could sing, I’d listen in
I’d ask when my song would begin
I’d fold my skirts and bow my head
I’d hope they heard the words I’d said
The silence would sink like a stone
Reminding me I’m still alone
But through my pain, I’d listen still
My hope’s a flame, too bright to kill