Enough Light: Sonnet 510 [poem]
She paints, each stroke a wafted slice of life
her colours wrought from ancient lines of sight
she sees inside with tender piercing gaze
and understands with beams of loving light
He writes, each word a fleeting glimpse of sky
his rhythm forged with mystic Celtic rhyme
he sees inside with fierce but gentle eye
and captures metered lines of frozen time
They tumble, dance, exchange and seem surprised
with each delighted step beyond the known
their laughter fills their fingers bellies lips
astonished at how swift and much they’ve shown
Inside each other now: but is it real?
How should they treat the truth of how they feel?
[If there's a photo down here it was added August 2017 as part of blog refresh. Photo is either mine or is linked to where I found it. Make of either what you will.]