The Artist and His Muse

He is no longer an artist who has no name
His paintings adorn walls, he has his fame
Today he will commence his last and final piece
She is but a model, earning meagre fees
A young girl of beauty, just twenty years old
She is quickly posed upon a luxurious throw of gold

He, behind his easel, his canvas tightly stretched
He gazes on her face, where he sees her beauty etched
Palette in his left hand and brush in his right
Working out perspective in the ambient light
Pause a while, thinking, taking in the scene
Grateful that he had been sent such wonderful queen

Brush caressing the canvas like a gentle summer breeze
Depicting her contours with deft accomplished ease
Her deep brown hair of gleaming silken curls
Her eyes as wondrous as rarely seen black pearls
Her full lips with a warm honeysuckle smile
Her neck her shoulders, all wonders to beguile

He pauses once again, a required and thoughtful rest
Before he continues outlining her rounded alabaster breast
Her hourglass waist, her legs so elegantly slender
His brush, as if it also knew of this girls great splendour
Would glide and dance with magical unguided ease
As every contour, every curve it would lovingly tease

The time came and when his work was complete
He covered it with a pure white veil and took a seat
“Sir can I please see the fruits of your labour?”
Yes my dear, I hope that it meets with your favour
As she lifted the veil for the first expose
Her honeysuckle smile became an opening rose

But Sir have I not been your inspiration?
Is this a joke, or a cruel aberration
This canvas is blank, no oils have left your brush
Her cheeks already pink, but now a deep anger blush
Sir you will have to explain this to me
As there is nothing here for me to see

My dear sit down and I will tell you true
From the moment my eyes had gazed upon you
I knew that no artist living or long dead
Could do justice to the beauty that I saw on that golden bed
This is a creation of yours not mine
Please take this brush and in the corner sign

With my paintless brush, my mind I have trained
I am so much richer with the joy that I’ve gained
My head no longer has an empty space
For you have filled a void in this place
You have made my artistic quest complete
My gratitude I humbly lay at your feet

I now have a masterpiece that only I can see
It will now be the most precious painting to me
For this canvas and the palette of my mind
With every viewing I will surely find
The true and faithful image that today I have seen
With this, no longer will I have the need to dream

©Ray Gorringe 2009