Love Poem: The Painting

The Painting

 
there is a painting at the art gallery, I have a strong affection for; it is a man that calls me from the past, in the year 1670 lived this nobleman. long dark hair falls to his shoulders, a strong face with fathomless eyes; eyes full a passion and desire, he does not smile, yet I adore him. I want to reach out to him, he seems to see me, beckon to me; come to me- he whispers, aristocratic is his demeanor, dignified. O, but could I step within the frame, be in his world- in his time; we would hold hands in silence, for he would know without question . . . my heart and soul are his forever. __________________________ March 01, 2023 (Repost) Poetry/Freed Verse/the painting Copyright Protected, ID 03-1528-736-01 All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France Submitted to the Standard contest, You Pick Again sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/02/2023 Third Place