A painting for Joseph

A slight dusting of ice lingers to pools
of what could have been the artist’s
first inspiration, before the paintbrush
decided otherwise.

Grass, as vividly green as the molehills
are dark and rich with underground
mysteries, with the secrets of growth
seen from the root; and sun, the early
sun of mornings that run late and so
dash through trees and the sky all flushed
in the face.

How does one paint this, my love, leaving
not even a subliminal hue out, not really
forgotten, but waiting for its moment in
that corner of the palette, like an utterance
held in thought behind the lips?

One doesn’t; and so, a slight dusting of warm
kisses lingers to pools of blue, daring them
to become eyes that open and follow the
ultimate inspiration of fingertips along vividly
pulsing skin.

Dark and rich revelations arise and blend
in all corners of a canvas closer and closer
to overflowing, at the center, with the perfect
expression of nudity; and sun, the early sun
of this winter morning that runs late like passion
held in, behind dreams, in a much too long night -
dashes through the mergence of our bodies and
crumpled sheets.

A burst of all possible colours in the unison of bliss
and then a sigh – catch us, all flushed in the face.

-- © 2007 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*®