Ghost Flames

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

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