Glowing breast, more vivid
than each rendered hue
from the palette I left
when I heard a cue.
Palm can barely sense
a body meant for flight.
I should have never
held such softness and light.
Oh little yellow one,
single drop of red,
does not seem to merit
being put to bed.
Will your color fade
in hours after I lay
you upon the brush
and dusk blows warmth away?
Your eye is pale with
face toward the meadow.
Gold shines brightest now
set off by the shadow.
To me, you’re more vibrant
this side that bold line.
Were that dark edge not yours,
it would have been mine.
About the Creator
Samantha Joy
Connection though communication is my dearest calling, and it takes many forms- as an artist, writer, photographer, linguist and storyteller.
Instagram: @ramblin_sam_joy
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.