Morpheus shines golden on a flaming June,
Curled onto the eyelids of Litha’s sunset,
Languid, she is draped in a soft crescent moon;
Gauzy and strewn as a tangerine vignette.
Dream sleep holds her close, Aurora left waiting
For a kiss, yet lulled away by the perfume
Of Oleander buds, hearty and harming,
With the ocean framing her makeshift bedroom.
She is feline in her drowsy confidence––
Untouchable so as not to awaken,
Yet salacious to the voyeurs ponderous,
And imposing in their beholden gazes.
A three part act; from muse, to sketch, to canvas,
A woman idyllic and left for purchase.
Sources:
Below are some notes about this piece, including the thoughts and external inspirations that occurred during its creation.
Bear in mind, this is simply what I was thinking of when I wrote these poems and what they mean to me. If you interpreted them differently, that does not diminish how you felt as the reader nor the correctness/incorrectness of what you were thinking. Poetry is subjective, and so is being alive.