The Art of Colour in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...

There are no words tonight. I have tried. I am a dried out husk. Barely alive. Reliving the past. Always living and reliving life inside these walls that constitute my mind.

So old poetry it is.

And sometimes the inspiration comes from the way she makes me want to express the heart..

“The Art of Colour”

Tonight, darling
Sleep evades me
A mercurial creature
If ever there existed
In the dark of night

I can feel my pulse
Oh, how it quickens
When around you, love,
I am but a blank canvas
For your delicate brush

Won’t you colour me
With those perfect strokes
As there can be
No greater an experience
For any starving artist
Than to be held by your
Slender fingertips
Oh, to feel your touch

Will you not paint me
Some magnificent mosaic
Perhaps draw me upon
An undiscovered stone wall
A mural of intensity
Depicting my passion
My want, my desire
For I can hold no candle
In these billowing winds
That would ever dare
Hope to shine as bright
As bright as your eyes

You see, love, stars
They guide sailors
Lost upon rocky waves
Finding their way
In the dark of night
Yet these eternal beacons
While they shine
Ever so brightly
They glow so very dim
When I look at you
When I see your smile
You are the truth,
An unspoken beauty!
That makes the pallor
Of this wicked life
Somehow subside

When the art of colour
Longs for safe harbor
It is in your arms
And in your warm heart
That such beauty
Shall always reside

© Brian Milici
May 27, 2009

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May you always find your smile.