The artist..... soaks in the atmosphere around him Longing for another human To walk into his world, And inspire, the first stroke Of the morning... He lays out his brushes, In order of size, Strokes the tip of each brush, Lovingly........
remembering every line of her face her exceptional beauty and amazing grace she would fill his heart to the brim when she lovingly gazed up at him she could make anywhere a happy place she held a magical spell in her face and he knew his brushes could bring her to life as he slowly and lovingly recreated his wife.
So as the sun rises The rose petals open Spreading their arms An invitation to a warm embrace The scent of her perfume Calls to the honey bee He lights upon her petals Now adorned in the morning dew He probes her center and drinks her nectar Sated he flies back to his hive to share his love and his longing for the rose.
his pencil he now takes from his bag, An eraser should he not quite draw The rose, the thorns, the petals, To his liking, Or should the sun move It's direction..... He sips his drink..... Looks at his work of art so far He is far from pleased as yet
has he lost his touch or has the memory faded to what he wants her to be or does he want to keep her all to himself a magic only he can see he waits drinking in the last of the sun knowing when its over they will be one
The lady of his dreams, In his memory... He takes out a picture of her, Takes in a deep breath Admires the butterfly, Now, hovering over the flowers His lady planted, She who came along Just at the right time With a short brush stroke, He touches the canvas once more Smiling now of his memory
Oh...to be this much in love with her always Fondness of great memories shared on many days. Love that has grown apart...and back again, Love that has counted her a blessing...counted her a friend. Silly Romantic notions fly high out of reach, Slowly...Carefully...a new embrace for each. With the dawn of another day that keeps on movin' I see...these two ol' lovers...haven't lost their groovin'!
Not necessarily, my dear poet lorraine...Although I see where you would get that. The first sentences actually speak of love coming back again...! Very fun of you to take a look at this one a little closer...that's the mark of a gifted poetess Thanks for mentioning it in a quote box!