The Portrait

My whole life, it seems
 I've spent only waiting
 For the perfect man
 My mind's always painting

 I've searched and searched
 But the end's all alike
 I'll go to bed empty
 Sleep alone for the night

 Suddenly, my hopes grow limp
 My portrait fades to bland
 I realize that my search must end
 There is no perfect man

 But you proved me wrong
 You showed me what's right
 And handed back that paintbrush
 To paint again tonight

 But there is no need to paint
 My work is nearly done
 Because of him the colors returned
 The light of love has won

 My whole life of waiting
 Has someone to end my strife
 My dream has been accomplished:
 The portrait came to life