Like a painting
I stared at her
like she was a painting,
as if I had all day and night
to drink in every
curve and contour
of her exquisite grace.
She briefly gazed at me
as if I was a painting
that she had no time for.
For me, an eternity of ecstasy,
for her, an incidental passing glance.
How much worldly fortune,
if I could, would I offer
for one more glimpse
of her exquisite grace?
I wonder if I possessed
a painting as beautiful as she,
would I settle for this work of art,
to worship and admire her
for as long as I should like,
or would I freely give this up
for one more moment’s sight
of her exquisite grace?
(2013)
