Delicate landscape of face, not veneer
but classic art, you seem, smiling softly.
As if you knew some great painter, Vermeer
perhaps, would pause when seeing you, lofty
visions blessing his gaze. He’d place a pearl
earring center right, blue scarf to cover
your shining hair, focus on eternal
glow of your skin, reflecting a lover’s
soul; your skin a dimpled canvas calling
for gentle kisses; your skin an altar
for eyes through ages to honor, falling
humbly when meeting your eyes staring far
into theirs. Can your skin make lenses melt?
Watching you, that’s just how I’ve often felt.
Roger Armbrust
September 25, 2013
