I lose myself in 'View at Arles with Irises'
and wonder how close I am to seeing Vincent
standing in that field
fighting the wind
frustrated at never quite seeing the pure expression
in his head
realized on canvas
I would tell him I see it
I know it as he does
he looks pensively at the beauty he has created
slowly raises his head
and unseen in the portraits
there comes a smile
he sets the brush aside
lights his pipe
and begins to tell the story
of the smoking skull