The portrait of a lady

1926 London England

He was poor.
who needed a starving artist in this coldest of  winters.
Spending his last few shillings
he bought a ticket to the play.
It was at the London hippodrome.
Staring Miss Abigail Kendrick.

He had read of her for years
in a theatre magazine
in the little country hamlet
that he had spent his whole life.

In the theatre she shone like the star she was.
Even when the spotlights faded
All that he could see
was the beautiful color
of her turquoise eyes.

In the second act
he was in love with her.
By the end of the play
he was besotted.

He went back to his tiny room
By not eating
he bought the paints and canvas.
Carefully mixing his colors
on the pallet.

he found the exact hue he sought.
The perfect turquoise of her eyes.
When it was completed
he thought it to be the pinnacle
of his work thus far in his life.

After the next show was over
he waited outside
by  the theatre stage door.
Several Hours later
she appeared dressed beautifully

He stepped forward into the gaslight
from the flickering streetlamp.
You are the most beautiful creature
in gods creation he uttered.
I am in love with you
so much in love.

He passed the small painting to her.
And she took it from him.
It's ...it's.. so beautiful she whispered.
Not as beautiful as you milady

She kept the painting
for her whole life.
Always in a predominant position
in her stage dressing room.
She heard the artist had died
a few weeks later
after he gave her her picture.

2017 London

The young woman entered
.the old building in London.
Her great great grandmother
had passed on
she was left all of her possessions.
She was over 100 years old when she died
and the girl knew there
would not be much of earthly value.

But it was her duty to clear her apartment.
She saw the programs of the the plays
her great grandmother had been in.

Then she saw the painting
on her old mantle shelf.
It was so beautiful
a portrait
of her great great  grandmother
in her maytime.

The eyes were dancing in the light
even now so turquoise
She had been a great beauty.
She looked at the name
of the artist in bottom corner.
It was signed.
With all my heart and love
Roger Donovan

Her heart stood still for a moment.
She had to call her own artist man
who had stolen her heart forever.

She. Pressed his name in her contact. List
Her cell phone sent the call.
The receptionist
at the art gallery answered.
Can I speak
with James Donovan please.

He answered the phone
He was excited rushing to tell her his news.
and said darling I have just completed
your portrait it is the best work
I have ever done.
I truly believe
I have the exact hue
of your beautiful turquoise eyes.

Come to the velvet night
Where gossamer dreams alight

Into the darkest  dark
Being to me your igniting spark.

Let go of all of
your doubts and fears
Forget your
lost and lonely years.

Bring back your
needing sighs
That can't speak
of any  lies

Give to me your soul
Let me be me
Just once  again be whole

Fall from a place so
high above
bring to me
all of your love

Until I can smile
Oh yes!
Until I can smile.

In my ears calls
the drumbeat of my ancestors.

From many winters past
When the buffalo were countless.

And around the fires of the tribe
Passed the pipe of peace.

And the thunder of wild horses on the plains
deafened the ears.

The drumbeat
Comforting and disturbing.
Breaking my complacency
Begging me to return
to the ways
Of my people

To sing of my heritage.
That my forefathers
entrusted to my care.

Before the white man came
With his sticks of fire
Before they stole our land
And our children.
And killed our ways.

Come back to us my son
The ceaseless drumbeat calls.
We are your forefathers
And we cannot sleep

Touch the land
neath your feet.
For it is yours.
It is the gift
of our heritage

Listen my son
Listen to my heart
Hear my drumbeat.

She has a distant beauty
Unattainable yet intoxicating.

Touch my virginal purity
She purrs like a kitten in sirens call.
Come to me and see my gifts
Watch my patterned snowflakes
Shining as diamonds

Feel the heat of your breath
Melt my ice cold heart

Feel my needs
As I hang ******* icicles from
Your eves.

See the wetness dripping
From your windows warmth.
Touch me
feel me
Do not try to fight me.
For I am winter's bone.
And your powers are frozen by my touch