Colours in a frame !


I see through that distant prism
a faint refraction
of a pure indigo
shun from
the final coloured drops
of a painters wheel
of a primary
bathed in
Glorious glow

I see beyond that optimal,
in rare subtractive
through the tired
brushes of a
finite artist’s
real sublimity
sitting alone,
stranded by the sea,
sketching that perfect sunset
Far beyond,
through the spectrum
of a visual secondary
Sun showered cyan,
Golden often unseen
with marigold interludes,
and they hang around
in comfort shades
shielding sired souls
with warmth, then
In ecstasy of a full crest
little magentas rise
abruptly upon
soft waves of nagging desire
lull from deep within,
Slowly at first, and then
in a tumultuous overture
playing many million tunes
in wet velvet wilts,
in full synchronicity,
As a final surge
takes control
Of that imperfect rainbow of love
In full stroke,
by every coloured sense
In every aching grid
In that final completed frame
Of that perfect delight.


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