You taught me how to hold a brush,
my opinions on Architecture,
made on your trust,
everything I attribute to you,
all good I do- a tribute to you,
you make me capable to do so,
if I succeed, it’s because of seeds you’ve sown.

The thoughts in my mind,
the attitudes that moulds me,
all comes from one deft hand,
hidden at times in dunes of sand-
hand of your shows,
the way in the storm,
that’s forever your norm.

You have been my guide,
in it I take pride,
if I ever stumble and fall,
I am sure you’ll be there,
before I call.