Water Color Memory - Poem by Edwina Reizer
The portrait he was painting
did not fit her well.
She sat and posed for long periods
aching in every cell.
But he was determined in his work
and never seemed to tire.
The brush, the strokes were slower now
but never the desire.
For he needed to capture who she was
so he would never lose her.
She stayed as still as a statue
until all became a blur.
Her eyes were strained, her muscles sore.
How long could she endure?
When at last he said "it's done."
she gazed at her picture.
It looked nothing like her at all
and she began to cry.
Angry at all the hours of posing,
she brazenly asked him why?
It's how I remember you when we met,
how you'll always look to me.
She dried her tears and smiled
at what he still could see.
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