Under Green Tree, he painted this for me

Green Tree

He painted this for me, in the studio with the

apartment on welders street ,

and peace like a river overhauls my soul

its wild outside, but in here, I’m home

and his eyes are amber fire and rain in a storm

and the rush of a healing in the end of a song ; we

dance in the grass , then sleep in the shade of those

leaves , and the easel and  well- emptied paint

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Filed under Art, gaining thru losing, Transitions, True Love, Writing

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