A crimson sky
Is splashed with white,
And summer long colours
Fill circles
As her page turns to certainty
In the autumn light.
Sage is placed on lower greens
Upon an unseen bower
As sheens of high veridity
Billow beneath
And garden growth is trothed to potted plants
Commanding your attention
As they stand
Upon each other.
Uncovered in the square
Of careful canvas
Is the perfect execution
Of her latest work of future frame;
Aimed at no one in particular,
And everyone in general,
And yet to be rooted
By the shoots of life
That connect my husband
To her wife
And strive to tell the tale.
Her grail is mine for seeking
And for keeping safe
Until the grave bequeaths
Its finished beauty
To another generation.
No comments:
Post a Comment