The Art of Love

Rest
In sweet naked slumber,
Gentle and pure,
While I, enraptured,
Paint my life
Across your perfect frame.

Eyes closed
And silken cheek,
My childhood traced
From nape of neck
To gentle spine
In green and gold.

My purple youth
Loiters around
Your lower back
In envy of buttock and thigh.

These later years,
In deepest blue,
Traced across belly and breast,
Now diluted by the tears
Of regret.

You wake,
My finished work,
Wild and passionate,
To be displayed
In another man's
Private collection.