The Maiden

The white canvas rests untouched,
The spear of destiny dipped in pallet,
My fingers laid scarred
My muse ;Silent.

Soul was vacant, vanished was my conscience,
Verdict was out, guilty as charged.
The bloodstained fettered cloth reminds,
The ghosts of Christmas Past.

Out of the blue,

I drew,
An arced river for her head,
And pale yellowed her face,
Lips of cherry, eyes of fish.

A white strip of her maidenhood,

and garments of country girl.

The turban flowed in wind,
And stroked the rainbow,
Colors danced death,
Every brush stroke took my life,
Bit by bit.

And there she was,looking at me,

Turning towards,or against me?
With last breath, I dropped a white,
Near her ear,
She was completed
And I was gone, to reside,

in her pearl earring.