Painted Love


Painted love

in many colors

Is her portrait

on my wall.

Every day

I stare and wonder

If the painter

knew that girl.


Did he see her

in her glory

When the sun

rose in her eyes?

Did he only

know the story

Of her many

stolen sighs?


Did his paints

turn red with longing

For the beauty

they portrayed?

Must have wanted

her, but did he

Touch her, and

was he afraid?


Painted love,

my silent picture,

Tells no stories,

tells no lies.

Leaves me here

to weep and wonder

If the painter

also cries.


2011 Richard Hodges