I close my eyes to paint a pictured scene
a view; unfurls and takes my breath a-way...

No artificial
colours or preservatives...

I see beds of roses, flourishing from
the earth of your cheeks...

She steps into the colours
of autumn, turning her back...

A delicate touch
fingertips turn green to gold...

An age-old golden artist glows
as it meanders upon a journey...

the sun that day was
beautiful and if it rained...

The planets and stars
along with the sun and moon...

She sends a message
with breath blowing hot and cold...

Captive
confined imprisoned...

Neurotic apprehension
Escalates causing me to...

Neurological
Enzymes...