Art Theory

they giggle.

he places a gentle kiss on her forehead.

she swoons cradled gently by his embrace.

hundred year old artworks cover the room,

yet the only masterpiece i see is you.

portraits of little Italy, an unknown creek at sunset, and

the Serengeti at dawn...

yet you're the only thing i can keep my eyes on.

somehow oil canvases of perfectly painted marshmallow clouds seem familiar.

i've been to clouds one through eight but, you took me to nine

since you exposed me to the art in your eyes

every painting suddenly equates to love.

the sea, a metaphor, of how your love grows like waves coming in to shore and crashes down upon me like i've never felt before.

the grass, a personification, of how each blade dances in the wind when it feels you coming.

the sky, a simile, as free as a bird. how far your dreams soar, yet your wings guide you closer evermore.

fly on my little bird

into an oil painted, iridescent, light stroked painted sky of oranges, yellows and hints of blues as they greet you as you fly by.

may the winds always kiss your wings as you fly low with one wing gently scraping the sea.

fly until you can claim the horizon as your own.

may your journey always be through clear skies

and if you ever need some motivation to carry on

you'll always know where to find me

for you, i'll always be the wind underneath your wings.

@PoetryByRian