Painting By Numbers Poem by Jerry Pike

Painting By Numbers

Somewhere deep inside me, there's a room called yesterday,
with paint by number figures, lightly pencilled in, in grey.

The room is known in slumbers, as a place where love is seen,
a vision coloured any way, your precious heart can dream.

It's then as daylight spills its deepest aches of gold and white,
soft amber tones of morning, in a flurry of delight.

Each pastel shade is cherished on your brush of soulful charm,
enabled by some silent touch, that keeps us both from harm.

I'm still a float of tangerine, to soothe your glace wine,
and dabs of warming glycerine, to add a little shine.

And while the dawn awakens, you're my sea, my painted prize
in oils, I burnt the night away, and swam your blueing eyes.