By Jenna (poetic_angel@gurlmail.com
Date: 10 December 1998

My Painting

We stand together in the Art Gallery
Staring.. at this one painting.
He and I are the only ones that seem
to pay any attention to it.

As he examines the framework,
having so much faith that the painting 
will always be there,
I 'see' the painting.
My eyes slide with familiar ease over the soft brush marks
(memories too deeply involved to fade)
The thick mixture of paint come together, 
forming a whole.
(inside, out)

I think to my self:
"What love, what happiness, what beauty."
(So beautiful, oh, how it hurts)

As he takes my hand, gives me a reassuring look
out of the corner of his eye, and we move
together
to the next painting.

We walked hand in hand around the Art Gallery.
I never took my eyes off the painting.
And I squeezed the artists hand a little tighter,
for I am thankful he used such a soft brush to
paint our future together.
(So beautiful, oh, how it hurts.