from where she strokes
her medium to 'ad idem' degree
against the paling breath
of the idle night

in hues where gilded beauty thrives
again and again she's flourished
her heart's desire
ever artistically, evermore
to burn with an affair
so often wedded with affection...
then dies.


Author notes

"oh, how i long solace enough to release all the beauty i know i have to offer. unfortunately it doesn't work that way... i can only offer fragments at a time. now, consider what i had just said and ask yourself: do you think you could handle all my inner allurement were i able to grace it in a single poem? would it be far too overwhelming for you? or for anyone?"-- Robert Anderson
 
 poem inspired by both pic and self quote