We walk silently, side by side
wander from delineated path.
into mountain meadow
enveloped in heady scent.
Wildflower carpet at our feet
damask cloth spread upon the blooms.
She sits demurely
holds one tempting peach aloft,
just beyond my reach.
I stretch to touch her wrist
guide velvet fruit to slightly parted lips.
Succulent flesh drips sweet nectar,
blurs into rivulet on milky neck.
And I sit mesmerized.
Her image blurred through tears.
framed amidst soft meadow hues.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Bjorn hosts and continues with his exploration of artistic movements. We are to paint with words, in the style of Impressionism, capturing images to create a scene. Impressionism is not dark. We are to lighten our poem with colors, but preferably not using color words. Instead our images/objects/scenes mentioned should evoke a sense of color by their very nature. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come share your impressionistic view or just stop by to imbibe some words!