Portrait of a Lady

The noblest pleasure is the joy of understanding."

                                                                                                                                                ~Leonardo da Vinci

You can throw your temper

All about the room,

Along with the Italian Vase

Now laying broken,

Too brittle, too shattered

Sadly beyond repair…

But the Image

Of a Lady in Royal Blue

Will continue

Looking solemn,

A thin curl about her lips.

You might go and grab at the books,

Tear them apart…

She will not make a noise…

Utter a whisper…

She will continue

Looking deep into your eyes…

Alas, you just cannot touch her,

Jostle her…

Bring life,

Feel her chest rise,

Watching her eye lids...

Close and open…

But she is all about the room…

She knows like no other…

How desperately,

You are seeking her breathing presence.

She knows the pain,

Veiled below your acute anger.

For when you are done,

With your rampage,

She will continue looking at you,

Her eyes glistening,

Understanding how much,

You now need to be held close

And how you need to confess,

How you wish her to be there …

Sitting beside you.

A little bit of Da Vinci in morning cup of warm tea, a bit of Keats churning thoughts of Some forgotten Grecian Urn and few memories of recent conversation, all joined to paint such a portrait. Those that are laying buried under the ancient canopy of dreams could be found right here.