Painting Me With Kisses

I was a canvas
waiting to be made a work of art
I bore a background washed
in shades of life
yet I was incomplete.

I was waiting for the painter
whose brush had left its mark
in fleeting strokes
some thousand years ago or more
in the passing of two souls 
among the mists of time
and I knew I would know him 
by his touch.

And when at last I stood before him
I was reminded of his face
from lives gone by,
I offered him this canvas
and he began to paint me
with kisses.


august 2007
Janet Reid





Awarded by Poetic Constellations






Awarded by Poetic Constellations ~ Sasha