Painted Shadows

Poised direction
Of mounted scenes
Left open-chested
With acquiescent dreams.

Perched on high
Above the clouds.
In midnight colored-flora
She pressed upon my brow.

Consumed in darkness she sings
And paints her sullent pictures.
With sulked spirits filling the night
She opens old sutures of breeding.

Consummate fellowship
She seems in memory –
But without it open-handed
She drags open fury.

I sit waiting quietly
For the moment to arise –
When I can pry open the insides
And present a smiling prize.

Not a cupie –
Not a pie.
Nothing material
Not making her cry.

Just old-fashioned, friendly words
To remind her of her cause.
She’ll awake tomorrow refreshed and clean
Only remembering shadows she paints on walls.

©2003 Joseph Jenkins

There area some odd allusions there but if you read it twice it makes sense. :) Enjoy it Rilee.