“Painting of love

This afternoon I saw a painting hanging on the wall,
It was of a maiden in the prime of her beauty,
The background was painted in rainbow colours, one and all,
I had every reason to admire the artists sagacity,

Her form looked perfect worthy of every appreciation,
Her eyes interacted with mine,
Her lips had a strong and intense red sensation,
And from her arose feelings divine,

Although she was just a portrait,
A still painting hanging on the even more still wall,
She was a feeling that moved through eyes into the heart without any freight,
And in me, just like other mesmerised onlookers, she did feelings of “life in love” install,

Maybe I only felt so, maybe I wanted to feel so,
Because her eyes, her form, her everything reminded me of someone,
And I imagined her in this painting on the wall, and I allowed my mind to believe so,
As long as she did not remind me of anyone, or everyone, but just her, my special someone,

So I sat there looking at the painting on the wall,
I admired the salient aspects of her colourful beauty,
And now I too was still, still like the painting and still like the dead wall,
Now, not the painting, but the stillness it exuded had become my new propensity,

Like a flower that is beautiful in the presence of the beauty that holds itself within it so still,
A state where all conflicts are exhumed and everything that represents profanity dies,
That is when this painting my heart does with million joys fill,
And recreates her colourful visions within me, and now my life just on them relies,

So, I often visit the painting on the wall, still hanging there,
And maybe it will be so always,
Until one day I find it everywhere,
Because I wish to love her in a million ways!”