Poetry

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Very much alone, I walk toward an unnoticed horizon.

Suddenly I am stunned into stillness by the unexpected beauty of the sunset.

An unseen brush brightly paints gossamer clouds with oranges, then pinks, then purples, synchronizing it effortlessly with the ever darkening sky.

A deep, cold pain of longing shoots through me.

I long for someone to share this moment.

I long for someone to share my life.

Firmly gripped by my despondency, I turn to walk away.

My heart hears a laugh – no, not a laugh,
more like a lover’s chuckle.

A small, almost-whispered voice tells me I am always understood, I am never alone.

Twirling abruptly, I frantically search for the owner of the voice . . .

and recognition turns into an embarrassed smile.

It is the Painter.

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