Tonight's Poet Corner: Watercolor Roses
Watercolor Roses
by Belinda Roddie
Your elbows glow orange in the lamp light. My
cheeks are streaked with pinks and golds. The hair
of your brush is saturated with the hues of a summer
garden, and while I cannot pick any of the plants
you've grown from your palette, I can at least admire
them from my chair. I pour you another
glass of Cabernet. You let a drop spill onto each
painted petal, burgundy swirling with indigo,
crimson with magenta, red with mauve. When
I spot a bit of white left behind, I dip my fingers
into the cup and let the water crystallize in greens
to make a new stem. You'll let the bud bloom,
set down your tools, and kiss me hard enough
to make my mouth wet like a waterfall
of wildflowers.
by Belinda Roddie
Your elbows glow orange in the lamp light. My
cheeks are streaked with pinks and golds. The hair
of your brush is saturated with the hues of a summer
garden, and while I cannot pick any of the plants
you've grown from your palette, I can at least admire
them from my chair. I pour you another
glass of Cabernet. You let a drop spill onto each
painted petal, burgundy swirling with indigo,
crimson with magenta, red with mauve. When
I spot a bit of white left behind, I dip my fingers
into the cup and let the water crystallize in greens
to make a new stem. You'll let the bud bloom,
set down your tools, and kiss me hard enough
to make my mouth wet like a waterfall
of wildflowers.
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