Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Rembrandt: The artist as an old man in love.

This unmarred canvas, my wife,
moves through the wind
like candlelight, all flicker and flutter.
I’m amazed she touches the earth
when she walks – I secretly
believe her footsteps
are clever forgeries.
She saved me from my
lonely walk. I had been stumbling
for years, one more missed step
and I would have shattered into a thousand
worming pieces. She resurrected me.
My knees have grown supple
from my dreaming of her.

My husband will write something like that to me when we're old, I bet. He's going to love me a ton.

2 comments:

Shauna said...

*swoon

Shannon said...

You're already old, so you are halfway there. ;)