October 30, 2013

A Portrait in Progress

Posted in Makeshift Poems at 21:20 by Miracle

your portrait, in words:
for who can render with paint
eyes thought to be of brown
when i have seen them
turn olive green in sunlight
and into black pearls at night?

a thousand scribbles
i shyly traced the first time:
how soon they’ve become waves
of my penmanship –
this brushing of your hair strands
with the movement of my hands.

and speaking of hands…
your hands, that gifted dyad.
the hands that yield music,
sweetness, thrill, and magic;
strong, but utterly smooth – as wine,
on a violin body’s curves, or on mine.

your portrait in words:
i write of you, bits of you,
even of your skin
with its constellations
of freckles from the nape down,
where consciousness, in those galaxies, drown.

of your daring feet;
decorated by adventures, 
urchin pricks, treks, and brave feats.
but they’re no less fascinating when
the footfalls of your wanderluster
rest near my own and linger.





1 Comment »

  1. Oh my!!! *kilig*


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