Tableau
The voice
of your words creates a Color Field painting
decorating that quiet gallery of private works
to blush in the monochromatic.
Longing adorns the white space.
Never to question your designs,
how they gently sketch vignettes to be remembered.
Golden rose and lemon light warm the space, leaping
from the depths of your deepest palette.
I am happily drawn into your canvas,
enveloped within your lustful blue seascapes with no horizon.
It is like dancing outside the lines in surreal shades of amethyst.
It is the riptide pull of a dream from which I wish not to wake.
What part of me brushes across your landscape?
I wish never to be a watercolor in the rain.
Like the Ming, that which brings together sun and moon,
your abstract brings ancient questions of intent
and how far reaching its pathos
but never does the artist nor subject ask why.
decorating that quiet gallery of private works
to blush in the monochromatic.
Longing adorns the white space.
Never to question your designs,
how they gently sketch vignettes to be remembered.
Golden rose and lemon light warm the space, leaping
from the depths of your deepest palette.
I am happily drawn into your canvas,
enveloped within your lustful blue seascapes with no horizon.
It is like dancing outside the lines in surreal shades of amethyst.
It is the riptide pull of a dream from which I wish not to wake.
What part of me brushes across your landscape?
I wish never to be a watercolor in the rain.
Like the Ming, that which brings together sun and moon,
your abstract brings ancient questions of intent
and how far reaching its pathos
but never does the artist nor subject ask why.
-Julia
Rose
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