William Robert Jones
unknown - unknown
The precious portrait landscaped by your hand,
The painted, perfect, peaceful land.
Your art hangs framed, on the wall, and I begin to wonder,
Wish I could fall from this sorrow, this pain, this room of despair
Into the breathtaking landscape, hanging there.
For in these delicately painted strokes,
I can see your smiles, I can see your jokes.
I can see my father, the beautiful man,
who taught me so much, who held my hand.
I sat a young girl in your lap one day,
Where you instilled knowledge in me and showed me the way,
Cause then it was just watercolors that created the land,
Where we started our journey through time like sand.
And as your skills “brushed up,” so did mine
As our triumphs, mistakes, and values refined
Who we were, who we are, and who we are destined to be.
But your passionate nature will always coincide
With your heart’s landscape painted mountainside.
From the mystery in your eyes like those dark, thickened trees,
To the sound of your laugh echoing through the leaves.
And the depths of your love in the calm, still lakes,
The glimmer of your light that shines in its wakes.
I know, dad, you are soaring in those clouds above
That you carefully created, painted with love.
For I know in my heart this is where you wanted to be,
Even though my own selfishness wants you here with me
To be able to hug me, love me, and tell me goodnight,
But I know the peace there will end your fight.
So when I want to see you I will look at my wall,
To the landscape portrait and hope I will fall
Into the land where we can laugh, tell stories
and where I know you are free,
Where I can be with you and you with me.
In this beautiful picture we will never be apart,
For this amazing place not only exists in your paintbrush sanctuary,
But also in my heart.
For my father, William Robert Jones
Donations may be made to the Routt County Humane Society.