She sits there quietly, patiently,
As he struggles to capture
Her total beauty on the canvas
Which stands before him.
His brushes stroke gently
Across the blank surface,
Gradually bringing life to
The portrait of beauty.
He traces each line and curve
Slowly, surely, and with pride
As she poses confidently
For his masterful brush.
At last he has finished,
And he lays down his easel
As he watches her rise
To observe the beauty he has created.
She smiles her approval
And kisses him lightly
Before turning to the window
Standing open across the room.
The candlelight flickers as
A cold breeze starts to blow.
He covers the portrait
And raises his head,
Only to find his model has gone.
July 1, 1982
© 2010 – 2011, Steven R. Drennon. All rights reserved.