One year ago, I asked my artist friend to make a piece of artwork out of the title above. At present, I haven’t received the finished accolade. Last night, I got my pen, sat down, and scribbled the words for it. And … voila! A masterpiece delight.
Here it goes:
He may have suffered from paranoia
Lingering with paints and color on the board
Draw there, line here, twist it
Still, he’s breathing frantically
She’s nowhere at sight
The sun was about to hide
She’s searching for the last rays of it
To end the enormous thought in her heart
He draws the eyes, the ears, the nose
And blends it with different color
He wasn’t satisfied with the stare
He remembered the kiss
The soft palette of red
In her cheeks and into her lips
They hear the giggle and the silent laughter
As the bell were ringing loudly
She smiled sheepishly as she walked home
She’s finished writing the love letter
The sunset affirmed her dwelling
Just in time before it fades
She remembered the breeze of the sea
They played together, had fun wearily
And the night brought her cold
He protected her with a prayer
The knock on the door leapt my heart
It must be her
She opened it silently
And still, I was breathing and waiting
The look on his eyes puzzled me
I moved forward
I’m used to it, those thousand times gaze
Then I heard the words
I showed her the finished arts
Her eyes brightened, smile widened
I received the same words too
And handed me her love letters
I read the scribble and look her into eyes
Then we remembered the kiss
The soft palette of red
In her cheeks and into her lips
The warmth and the comfort of it.
