My eyes furrow and my brush stops
As I take a deeper look at the woman posed
across the room.
She stands there, silent and austere,
eyes lost in thought and staring out the window, her naked form illuminated
by the gray light of storming day.

I rub my chin and drink her in with my eyes,
Attempting to capture her shimmering
form and flowing aura,
the water droplets from the rain outside
shadow and race down her body.
Her striking power as bolts of flashing
lightning reflecting in her eyes slowly
blinking eyes.
I see the tragedy of the diminishing hour
as our time together always becomes shorter.

She exudes the feeling rocks feel
when caught in a narrowing stream.
The clear water flows over the stone,
shining it clean with a cleansing touch,
rubbing off the dirt and showing the beauty
even in-between dull shades of gray.

-lightning flash-

She glows like a Star in a deep December night
When all hope is lost, except to follow that light.
How could I capture, how could I mold
her magnificent form into but a splotch of paint?

Squashing and cutting, limiting her vastness
to the confines, a prison, of this canvas.
She glances over because she noticed I stopped,
And gives me a concerned look
to which I reply with my best attempt
at a reassuring smile.

Her concern fades softly away,
replaced with a smile and a kiss
blown my way, floating smoothly
through the air, which I eagerly catch
and hold to my chest.

She looks back out the window, her coy smile fading to chiseled granite once again.
I am stuck alone, rubbing my chin and thinking in circles, once again.