The picture on the wall

I was five.
Well, all that I could remember.
The more I think, the more my brain becomes permeated with cobwebs.
The 10 x 11 frame that is hung parallel to my bed that has eyes on me all hours of the day.
 The memories, the laughter, replaying in my head almost as if I'm sitting back sunken into a chair rewatching the whole thing.
Trying to uncap the sticky glue cap, but I was too weak to succeed,
But I knew everything would be ok as long as she was next to me.
We laughed for hours that echoed throughout the room.
As if time had no effect on us.
Paper falling to the floor as we cut monkeys, elephants and stars that filled the frame like a white dot on a black paper.
Paint spilling all over them, only adding the laughter and clumsiness that pictures couldn't express.
 Along with the bright pink letters that spelled out E.T.H.A.N.
To some, it is just a painting.
To me, it's a memory of passion.
 An appreciation I have for you.
That's always seeming to fulfill my room with your love,
 But to sum, it just remains a mess.
 A canvas meaningless.
Parallel to my bed.
 That's greets you at my door.
With the bright pink letter of E.T.H.A.N.