Your eyes,
they ignore me.
Oiled strokes
look beyond
the wishes
colored blue
in mine.
Why couldn’t
it have been I
that dipped
a brush into
paint to bring
you to life?
I would not
have hung you
in a gallery
to be looked upon
by those who
count your worth
in stacks of green paper.
There is not enough
plastic in my wallet
or change in my pocket
to rescue you from
dollared stares.
I count each glance
I take at your beauty,
memorize your eyes,
your hair, your skin.
It is the only wealth
that will remain with me
on the day I return to find
you are no longer here.
©Susie Clevenger 2012
Image: Sarolta Ban
Magpie Tales
Comments
Hank
Wander
Thank you for stopping by my blog the other day and leaving a comment. It's nice to "meet" another "poetry fanatic." :)
-Mara
http://the-poetic-madame.blogspot.com
=)
"those who count your worth"...sadly
Peace ☮