Daydreaming In Art-#2

The artist could hear night approach

sounds from distance were a symphony

on his ears; the smell clinging along.

He bowed his head; gave in a sigh,

loneliness would creep in soon,

but at least his companion bride

would bring sweet dreams tonight.

Clara came before her; often thoughts

on the details of her structure appeared

in his imagination, his devotion, the time

consumed.

He never gave thought that time changes

appearances, that it should not interfere

with love, perhaps he was selfish to put

her away because of imperfections he

felt when he rubbed his finger tips on the canvas.

Always his finger tips told him the truth,

he counted on them, like he counted on dreams.