The Patron

Stand in the light.
Do nothing.
Let the morning sun
Bathe you
In flashing brilliance.

I orbit you
Enraptured by your art.

Michelangelo could not capture
Your loveliness
Nor Monet
Your soft beauty.
Raphael would marvel
At your countenance.

Yet only I
Am privileged
To behold your charm.

Your rose-washed hue
The soft hair at the nape
Of your neck
Your tresses falling
Like a shinning waterfall
Spills across your round breasts
And I cannot turn away.

Shadows merge with shadow
Along the pike ways
Of your graceful hips and legs.

Let the morning sun sculpt you
And I alone remain
The patron
Of your art.