Paint on His Boots

He asked what art would pay the rent I heard him say I'd never win I left our little town that June We called about the weather mostly Three years went by before I asked If he could help me paint the walls There's paint on his boots Blue from the room I chose He never found the perfect words But love knows how to show He drove six hours with a tray And patched the cracks before the paint I showed him where my pictures hung He read each little card in silence There's paint on his boots Blue from the room I chose He never found the perfect words But love knows how to show He said he'd only feared the fall I said I needed him to call He took a photo of the room And told the folks back home the truth There's paint on his boots Blue from the room I chose He never found the perfect words But love knows how to show He leaves those blue marks where he walks And calls to ask about my work