Beautiful Muse
She is draped over a chair,
Artfully fashioned
Like a fine piece
Of silk.
He imagines that her softness
Would sweetly mould into
His hands
Like ripe fruit.
She stays still and silent,
Letting him consume her
With his hungry eyes.
He drinks her in,
The fullness of her breast,
The gentle curve of her hip
And the honeyed tones of her
Naked skin.
Her natural beauty
Has him mesmerised....
Lips apart,
Heart pounding,
Motionless.
He feels the heat of creation rise in him
And with power and purpose,
His eyes break contact as
He touches
His brush
To the canvas.
© 2012
poem by Ruby Honeytip
Added by Poetry Lover
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