A Picture


Your PictureA picture paints
a thousand words
they say
what do they know?

Your picture
reveals the majesty
of coming dusk
the stars from
shrouded mystery
pulls a burning sun
from stormy clouds
faster than Apollo’s
fiery chariot.

Your picture
is an oasis
of serenity
to my stormy
to my restless
to my unquiet

Only your
sapphire eyes
(those chambers
of ethereal
love and joy)
could wrest the
heavens from
their sanctuary
return creation
to oblivion.

Your picture
does not paint
a thousand words
it unfurls
realms galaxies
vast universes
indomitable power
before my heart and
kills dead the
armies of my despair.

5 comments on “A Picture”

  1. We have a lot of memories or souvenirs of somebody or something but we don’t revisit it but for some other person or thing, we might have so little and yet we find musing over it. It’s both queer and beautiful at the same time, isn’t it?

    Liked by 1 person

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