She stretched out in front of him.

The artist.

For drawing the nude it’s a bliss

The cherry on the top if she’s

Your Muse.

Every bit your fingers touch

Her skin that started to glow.

You thought about her

Between the white sheets

Not to challenge comparisons

Of beauty

But for some time now she had

Indicated a mating game and

You felt burned out

Indifferent to love a woman

Once again

As love passionate love

Could not save your past great


However hard you’ve tried

To foil the bone man’s grab.

But then as a shipwrecked man

With an artist’s stubborn hope

Your homecoming nearly left

You cast aside thru’ bureaucracy

Left you fair game for famish.

But in life’s black book

Another page opened for you.

You caress her nude

Stretched out in front of you

And age is merely a number

As passion still drives the

Aged artist’s life.





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