December 2, 2007 § Leave a comment
A paintbrush, a tube of blue to keep
From the inner depths, where secrets weep…
Love moved inside an artist’s heart one night.
By his bedside hangs a woman bathed in starlight-
…so many paintings where past and future meet.
How lovely her presence, still walks down Meeting Street.
Colors of a dream illuminate on his fingertips;
As he touched her softly, kissing her lips…
In painting the face of the deep,
He can only embrace her sadly in his sleep.
© Sonya Rose