him

he painted like Claude Monet
field of something 
under starless canvas
cracking still beneath
his fingertips
he traced the outline
of life
in miles 
on skin with mouth

he sang like Elvis
or the Stones
depending on the
length of martinis'
or the sorrow
in his skin
some days joy arrived
he could not see
or hear my love

yet it captured him
in color and waits
on still canvas

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s