I PAINTED HIM
He had never had a wife,
nor even a lady friend.
None, that I can recall!
He kept his secrets within.
His mother was a streetwalker
She lived just up the road.
Our attractions were acute
I opened my heart, I let him
in.
He had no formal education
only the things I could teach
He wasn't overly streetwise
he was young when we met.
It was hard for him to socialize
with my kind of folks.
He'd rather laze in an easy
chair
or curl up and watch a TV
show.
He wasn't a food connoisseur
nor a drinker of fine wine
But to know him was euphoric
he was comfort to have
around.
I tried to bring him life
on this canvas of utter
white.
For pure was his colour
It was hard to capture light.
I painted a beautiful boy today
but not in the human sense.
But of soft white fur and
eyes of great discernment.
TeAnne. May 16. 1999
