Unobserved but for the small greying man,

his paintbrush flicking, a dragon’s tongue,

wrapped red around her pale bare back,

pushing her small hand to cup her breast

.

The weight of it in the palm of her hand,

that of an orange ripened to sweetness,

a mouth to partake of its fleshy delights,

nothing but a glimpse of his imagination.

Rendered on canvas with a knife’s edge,

cutting through the thick of the paint,

one touch more where she places her fingers,

the peeking eye of one brown nipple revealed.

Sweat rolls down the man’s wrinkled forehead,

yet the taste of salt remains on her full lips,

opened to a slit when her breath pulls in,

this masterpiece of his final creation.