No New Page

 



They say a new life is a blank page.



No new page, you.



You knew who you were the moment you fought your way into
the world, took you first furious breath. You dropped onto my chest, lifted your
head and looked me straight in the eye.



You knew who you were. No new page, you.

Your personality wrote large in your every
movement from your first day. Placid when you had what you knew you wanted,
filled with quiet determination. A full person.



And now I see, as you stand tall before me, my almost man, that
the core I saw was the canvas. No new page you are now, but new page you were.



 Now you are shaded by
my teachings, coloured by my lore.



Not just I, that marked your new page, but all of the world.
So many marks I’ve shielded you from, but so many I couldn’t stop. Light and shade splashed across my perfect canvas.



I look at you now, my artwork but not only mine.



No eraser have I to remove the marks that I regret, no
tippex to cover the stains the world left. I can only colour you with more
love, for as long as I can, cross hatch you with happy memories.



If I had an eraser I wouldn’t use it. To take away a single
stroke would be to change the whole picture. The bad times sit with the good in
you, make you who you are.



You were a new page, bundled up small in my arms.



Now you stand tall, and look me straight in the eye.



No new page, you.



You are a masterpiece.