Inspiration presented itself

She accepted

A harmless muse

A subject

You get lost in

Her vision

A reflection of her only love

Capturing their presence

With every brush stroke

pigments dance between each other

Creating a mosaic

The perfect contrast

Of who they were

And who they are

Her passion grew,

When her muse passed

Grief taking form in the shadows and the corners

Of her painting

Her muse,

Her love

Somewhere just out reach

Like having a word

On the tip of your tongue

She can feel it,

And she sits there,

Brush in hand

Waiting for it to come back to her