Hairs falling against the nape of your smooth neck,
Arms reaching to pin up the next sheet,
White apron tied so neatly,
The epitome of the housewife.
What secrets do you hide? Your face turned away.
Looking at you, I feel the warmth of summer
Creeping in through these sterile blank walls.
The smell of grass and sound of crickets
Saturating my mind, healing me,
Staving off the winter chill that is waiting.
Simple oil and canvas affecting my soul,
Creating this longing for summer
With autumn in full color.
Will I get through the cold, dark winter
With this quiet painting to hold back the snow?
©2001 embereye@diaryland.com
This page is generously hosted by Geocities.
