A Final Letter From the Heart My Love
A final letter from the heart my love
You sat in Vermeer’s room, maid by side;
As daylight positioned at your writing place,
Decanted through the stained glass view-
Where she did stand; there; observing
Those that came and went.
Your quill did match your heart that morn’
For it beat your breasts with all your love
As the busy conquests drew to a close.
Waiting there, as long as those drapes hung,
That very room where once, you tasted intimacy-
While others found Moses; and looking on.
Your seal remains floored reminding your maid
That her ways were mere pacifiers- those days;
Such an amusing and sweet thing she was.
And of your meeting place? She did ready,
While you napped, that afternoon slipped by,
As your Alfred and Francesca stole away; and you?
Gathered yourself, returning and only keeping diary;
Of thoughts, moments in time, betrayed in ways
Similar to those your maid witnessed as you wrote;
For nothing is ever as ordinary as that painted,
In a room Vermeer visited with his brush.
Copyright © Patrick Islington | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment