To Paint Her

As she lounged on the couch
The soft golden sun light
From the window above
Caught in her hair but
Was hidden from blinding
Her beautifully still eyes.
She was a Goddess
She was Venus
And though I hurried to paint
Something worthy of her
(Or just capture a hint,
A small crumb, of that moment)
My heart wrote a poem
And my mind a song,
And that portrait I painted
Melted me back to my soft;
I was alive again by her posing view
And would keep her there until
That morning curtain drew
And the evening’s shadow shone,
But she was gorgeous and deserved
To be left alone.
Away from my own selfish gaze,
Away from all those poetic games.